t 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


1.1 


11.25 


tiit2A    |25 

£f  La  i  M 

I4HJ4 


Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


.mmt 


23  WIST  MAIN  STRHT 

WnSTIR,N.Y.  14510 

(716)S73-4S03 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHIVI/ICIVIH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Inttitut  Canadian  da  microraproductions  historiquas 


ggs0imw^^ismi«*'>^M<v^i^^'i«'WiU.'m'.''- 


f«:Ssas«H2&tes»s-i 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  IMotes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best 
original  copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this 
copy  which  may  be  bibllographically  unique, 
which  may  alter  any  of  the  images  in  the 
reproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  change 
the  usual  method  of  filming,  are  checked  below. 


1^ 


D 
D 


D 


D 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 

Covers  damaged/ 
Couverture  endommag^e 

Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaurte  et/ou  pellicuMe 


I     I   Cover  title  missing/ 


Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 


I     I   Coloured  maps/ 


Cartes  g6ographiques  en  couleur 


□   Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

|~n   Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 


Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

Bound  with  other  material/ 
Reli6  avec  d'autres  documents 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

La  reliure  serr6e  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
distortion  le  long  de  la  marge  IntArieure 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  ajout^es 
lors  d'une  restauration  apparaissent  dans  le  texte, 
male,  lorsque  cela  Atait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  6t6  film^es. 

Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  suppl6mentaires: 


L'institut  a  microfilm^  le  meilleur  exemplaire 
qu'il  lui  a  6t6  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details 
de  cet  exemplaire  qui  sont  peut-Atre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bibliographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  methods  normale  de  filmage 
sont  indiqu6s  ci-dessous. 


I      I   Coloured  pages/ 


Pages  de  couleur 

Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommag^es 


□   Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Pages  restaurtes  et/ou  pellicultes 

^^    Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 
Iz^  Pages  d6color6es,  tachet6es  ou  piquAes 

Pages  d^tach^es 

Showthrough; 
Transparence 

Quality  of  prir 

Quality  in6gale  de  I'lmpression 

Includes  supplementary  materii 
Comprend  du  materiel  suppi^mentaire 


I      I  Pages  detached/ 

I      I  Showthrough/ 

|~n  Quality  of  print  varies/ 

I      I  Includes  supplementary  material/ 


D 
D 


Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  Mition  disponible 

Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  ref limed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  totalement  ou  partiellement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure, 
etc.,  ont  M  filmtes  d  nouveau  de  fapon  d 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 


10X 

r««uiii 

Bill  a 

91     III 

1110  a 

14X 

u  %au 

A  uv 

IVUU 

18X 

■  IIUII 

i|UB    1, 

■  -una 

22X 

26X 

30X 

c 

E 

12X 

16X 

20X 

a4x 

28X 

32X 

ails 

du 

idifier 

une 

nage 


errata 
to 

t 

)  pelure, 

on  d 


ID 


32X 


The  copy  filmed  here  has  been  reproduced  thanks 
to  the  generosity  of: 

Library  of  Congress 
Photoduplication  Service 

The  images  appearing  here  are  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  keeping  with  the 
filming  contract  specifications. 


Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  — ^  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 

Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc..  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


1  2  3 


L'exemplaire  film*  fut  reproduit  grAce  A  la 
g4nArosit*  de: 

Library  of  Congress 
Photoduplication  Service 

Les  images  suivantes  ont  AtA  reproduites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin,  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  et 
de  la  nettetA  de  l'exemplaire  filmA.  et  en 
conformity  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmage. 

Les  exemplalres  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprimAe  sont  filmAs  en  commen^ant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
dernlAre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'improssion  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  selon  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplalres 
originaux  sont  filmte  en  commenpant  par  la 
premiAre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  dernlAre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaltra  sur  la 
dernlAre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole  — ►  signif le  "A  SUIVRE",  le 
symbole  V  signifie  "FIN". 

Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  Atre 
filmte  A  des  taux  de  reduction  diff Arents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  Atre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  ciichA,  11  est  f  llmA  A  partir 
de  I'angle  supArieur  gauche,  de  gauche  A  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas.  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  nteessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  mAthode. 


1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

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1^  IT  IN 


By 


rice: 


MOODICSl^ 


THE  BUSH 


'  (iKOFKRr.v  MoNcroi 

•'  I'lORA    I.VNUSAYi 

Ktc,  En. 


New  York  ^ 

'     oh;^  -W-  toy  ell-  (onPANY* 

I4*I6VESEY  STRtCT' 


II 


Itnovo  BIl  Momen  by  these  presents,  that 

■while  sundry  and  almost  countless  imitations  pf  and  substitutes  for 
Enoch  Morgan's  Sons  Sapolio  are  offered  by  unscrupulous  parties, 
who  do  not  hesitate  to  represent  them  as  the  original  article, 

Ebl0  lln^6ntUrC  WTTNESSETH,  that  there  is  but  one 
Sapolio,  to  wit:— the  original  article  manufactured  by  the  Enoch 
Morgan's  Sons  Co.,  of  New  York,  unsurpassed  in  quality,  unexcelled 
in  popularity,  and  widely  known 
not  only  through  its  own  merits, 
but  through  the  many  original 
modes  which  have  been  adopted 
to  introdnco  ib  to  the  attention  of 
the  public.  Imitation  is  the  r.in- 
cerest  flattery.  Cheapness  is  a 
poor  proof  of  quality.  Cheap  im- 
itations are  doubly  doubtful.  The 
most  critical  communities  are  the 
most  liberal  purchasers  of  Sapolio 
which  they  mvariably  find  to  be 
worth  the  price  they  pay  for  it. 

In  WrTNESs  Whereof,  we  hereby 
aflBx  a  great  seal  and  our  cor- 
porate title. 

ENOCH   MORGAN'S 


POND'S 

TbefonilGrofHealiiiE! 

For  FILES,  BUBNS,  ITEU- 
BALaZA,  DIABBESA, 
STIIiaS,  SOBE  IHBOAT, 
E7ES,  FEET,  XNFLAK- 
XATXONS  ANS  EEUOB- 
BEASESOFALLZIirSS. 

Uied  Intemany  and  Externally. 
POND'S  BXTRAOT  CQ., 

76  8th  Ave.,  Now  York. 

fj  A  I  O  Permanently  Removed  by 

ON  THE    DR.  WEST'S  HAIR  REMOVER. 

T7  A  0 17  An  English  Toilet  Preparation ,  largely  used  by  ladies  hi 

*^*»V-'*-«5     Europe.     Guaranteed  harmless  to  the  Skin ;  leaves  it 

soft,  white  and  smooth ;  never  falls  to  remove  the 

N_,  _^_,      hair;  the  only  toilet  preparation  that  a  lady  can  use 
ECK.   with  perfect  safety.    Price  $1.00  per  bottle.    Se^ 
'by  mail,  in  plain  wrappers,  to  any  address,  on  receipt 
of  price,  b^ 


EXTRACT. 

CAVTION.— Stoe  that 
«be  words  'tPONU'S 
EXTBAOV"  uro 
bloivn  In  eac-b  houie, 
Incloaed  In  a  buff-col* 
ored  nrrapper,  bear- 
init  onrlaudacape 
tradn-mar  k— none 
other  la  senulne. 
Sold  eeerywlwre.. 

Price,  COc,  SI,  61.73. 
POND'S  EXTRACT  CO., 

76  Cth  Ave.,  Now  York. 


ARMS.      AMEIIIIMN  DlUe  00.,  BOSTON,  MASS. 


••■''>; 


PRESENTS,  That 
and  BUbstitutoa  for 
Bcrupulous  parties, 
al  article, 

T   tbcro  is  but  ono 

red  by   the   Enoch 

quality,  unexcelled 


XTRACT. 

Am  ox.— 8e«  th«< 
a   words   "PONU«S 
KTBAOT"     uro 
fvrn  In  eac-h  bottle, 
sloaed  In  a  l»uar-eol« 
Bd  nrrapper,    b«ar> 
(onrlaudacapa 
a  d  «  -  m  a  r  k— none 
her  la  senulne. 
Sold  even/ichcre., 
•Ico,  COc,  ei,  61.73. 
NO'S  CXTRAOT  CO., 
9  Cth  Avo.f  Now  York. 

moved  by 

REMOVER. 

urgely  naed  by  ladies  in 

0  the  skin;  leaves  it 
fails  to  remove  the 

1  that  a  lady  can  nae 
00  per  bottle.  Bent 
tny  addrees,  on  receipt 

08T0N,  MA88. 


^ 


I:, 


m 


LOVBIiL'S  UBRABT.  - 

COMPLETE  CATALOGUE  BY  ^^^ORa  ^ 

p.  O.  Bo»  ISW. 

BT  HAHi  CHBIBWAH  ASSmW 


Mthoni 
eCo 

papv 


XTO. 


A.X. 


.to 

.9U 


.10 
.10 
.10 
.10 
,.10 
..10 
..10 
.  10 
..10 
..10 


MO    An  Algonquin  lUldm 

BTMAXASSUCS 

Sge    lUndom  Sboti 

tH    Elbow  Boonv. 

BT  aVBTAYX  ahubd 

660  The  AdTentoreni 

BUT  Tha  TnU-HnntMT 

678  p«Mrl  of  the  Ande« 

1011  PlmtMO."  thoPnlriej. 

1091  The  Trmpper'e  Denghter 

lOai  The  Tiger  fllMCT 

104R  Timppere  ol  ArtaniM 

lOSa  Border  Bifles 

10«8  The  Freebooters 

low  The  White  Scalper 

BY  KB8.  ALDXBDIGl 

MS   AnlntorertlngOMo  

BT  MB8.  AI-BXANBXB 

n  The  Wooing  0't,»PKU.  •«»»•• 

99  Tho  Admlr«l'i  Wart ' 

MO  ThelUeoator 

848  Valerie'eFete 

14R   Beeton'e  Bargain S 

777    A  Second  Life..... S 

7«9    Maid.  WHe,  or  Widow w 

84a  iiy  Wo™"*;?  w^:; so 

gOb    Which  Shall  It  Bet «" 

AH8TXT 


.» 
.16 
.10 


419    Fairy  Talea, 

BT  lOWni  AB>OU> 

4.36    The  Light  olA^a. 

455    perrieoltheFalto 

47a    Indian  Song  of  Bongs 

BT  W.  B.  ATTOITH 

851    La,iofthoBcottUhCa»aUet» « 

BY  ADAK  BABBAV 
7M   Con«|»ln«7 ••••••" 

BT  na  BAMinx  sazss 

90B   OaitnpbytheBea... 5 

«r    Bl«emdlfonndtaOeyl<m........» 


.90 


...15 
...80 
...SO 
...10 
10 


BAIBSTIBK 


881 

406 


BTC.  W. 

AFHirDerloe...  

life  of  J.  O.  Blaine 

BALLAXTIHA 


.90 
..SO 


916 
9SB 

sa» 


sirs 


....80 

....so 

••••S 
....so 


BY  y,  _      

80    VloeVenA;or,ALiontoFaUi«M..» 

45.S    Black  Poodle,  and  Other  Talee. w 

«in   The  Tinted  Vonna Jg 

766    AFallenldol ■yj'''' 

BT  t.  8.  ABTEOS 

496   Woman'aTriaU * 

em   TheTwoWlTea 

616   Married  Life .- 

KB   The  Waya  of  ProTlaenoe 

646   HomeBoenea 

664    BtorieaforPaienta..^ 

608    Beod-Tlme  and  Harveat 

608    Words  for  the  Wtoe :"llll 

B74   Btoiies  for  Yonng  Hooaeheepeia 

Vn    LMwnstaLlfe    

68S   Olf-Hand  Bketohea ,. 

086   Tried  and  TempMd *" 


15 
16 
.15 
.15 
.15 
.15 
.16 
.15 
.16 
16 


BTX.1I 

The  Bed  Brio 

The  Fire  Brigade 

Billng  the  Bold 

Seep  Down 

BT  8.  BABnrO-GOTCD 
Little  Tn'penny •••••° 

BTGXOBOB  unanaxoiK  ■^^'^ 

4fl0    Oalaikl ** 

BT  AC0TJ8T  BXBIL 

719   Woman •  "* 

BT  HBi.  B.  MDWa.  BBMAMIH 

74$   OwfBoninnftUaoe ■• 

BTA-BnntlKO 
Vto " 

BT  «.  BBBesa 

OharleB  Auohwtar * 

BT  W.  XBBGflOB 


470 


901 


TT 


808 


Fillone 

BT  ■.  BXBTHBT 

The  Beigeant'a  iMgacy. 


U> 


BT  BJOBMTJIEM  BJOBOTW 

•    TheHappyBiV « 

4   Anna " 


lBT.  * 

UTHORS. 

It  of  tbe  belt  ttudahl 
t,  LjttoD,  Btaok,  etc., 

found  Uifer,  and  tba 


AKT, 

■t.,  Mww  T«rlu 

ao 

aiAB>ou> 

*i» !2 

»lth J5 

Songe *" 

L  ATTOVH 

Dttfadi  Oavallen I 

■  BABSAV  ^ 

,8^ 10 

ndtaberkm.....^.-* 
randerlng  In  OejJon.  .W 

,  BAIBSTIXB 

,         « 

ailiine ^ 

lALLAXTXn 

I  SO 

**:::::::::::::::;::::2o 

LBOra-SOVLD 

nj 1» 

aSSLXTOH  BUTIX 

QXJ8T  BXBIL 
80 

hdbll  vtMJAJox 

Palace ^ 

^BnntiKO 

IB 

rUBesB 

bater » 

7.  XUMOS 

..Iw 

I BXBTHIT 

iit'iLegMsy *» 

rnoun  Bjomrar 

«_■       10 


1 


tOVELL'S  LIBRABT. 


BT  WALTXB  BUAVT 

18  Thoy  Were  Married 10 

108  Let  Nothing  Yun  Dlmnsy ]0 

SR7  AlltnnGarden  Fair 90 

fiH8  When  the  Ship  Oomea  Home. 10 

884  Dorothy  ForRter 80 

«»9  Self  or  Bearer 10 

H43  The  World  Went  Very  WeU  Then  .  .80 

(MTTheBolyRoM 10 

lUM  To  Call  Her  Mine 80 

BT  WlUXUf  BLAOK 

40  An  Adventure  in  Tbnto,  eto 10 

48  APrinoeaofTbula 80 

88  ADangbtarotHetli 80 

86  Bhandon  Bella 80 

m  MacleodotDare 80 

188  YoUnde 80 

148  Strange  Adventurea  of  a  Phaeton... 80 

146  White Winga ...SO 

168  BiinrlK,  8  PartL  eaok 16 

178  Hadvap  Violet  8U 

180  Kilmeny 90 

ltJ8  That  Beautiful  Wreteb 80 

184  Oreen  Paiturea,  etc 80 

188  InSilkAttiie 80 

913  The  Three  Feather*. 80 

81ff  Lady  BUverdala'a  Sweetheart. 10 

917  The  Foor  MacNioola 10 

918  Mr.  Piiiatiatni  Brown.  M.P 10 

986  Oliver  Ooldnnith 10 

989  Monarch  of  Mincing  Lane 90 

466  Judith  Bbnlteapeare !90 

B84  Wine  Women  of  InTemeai 10 

678  White  Heather 90 

868  SabinaZembra 90 

BT  mas  M.  X.  BBABDOV 

S8    TheOoldenOalf 9C 

1U4    Lady  Andley'i  SeOTCt 90 

914  Phantom  Fortune 98 

9B6    Under  the  Bad  Flag 10 

444    Anlihmadite 90 

668    AuroraFloyd 90 

&"«    To  the  Bitter  Bnd SO 

8HB    DeadBeaFruit 9C 

<|<I6    The  MisUatoa  Bough 90 

tm  Vixen 77. !:go 

7»3  TheOotoroon 90 

814  Mohawka 90 

8K8  One  Thing  Needfnl 90 

8H «  Barbara ;  or.  Splendid  Miaery 90 

870  John  Marchmont'B  Legacy 90 

871  JoahoaHaggard'a  Daughter 90 

Kli  Taken  at  the  Flood  90 

873  Aaphodel 90 

877  The  Doctor**  Wife   90 

fc78  OnlyaClod 90 

b7n  Sir  Jasper'* Tenant .....90 

880  Lady'HMile .90 

881  BirdaotPt«y SO 

889  Obarlotte'i  Inheritaao* 90 

833  RupertOodwin 90 

888  Strangers  and  Pilgrtma 90 

887  AStrangeWortd 90 

888  Mount  Royal 90 

888  JnstAalAm 90 

MO  Dead  Men's  Bhoae 80 

898  HoMagaa  to  Fortune SO 

886  Featon'aQMst 90 

BM  The  Cloven  Foot  80 


B1  nun  BABBXTT. 

lOOOTheOreat  Uesper 91 

BT  B.  S.  BLACUIOBB 

8S1  Loma  Doone,  Part  1 90 

861  LomaDoone,  Part  II SO 

8M  Maid  of  Bkcr  ...  SO 

065  Cradook  Nowell,  Part  1 90 

966  Oiadook  Mowell,  Part  II 90 

861  Bpringhaven SO 

1084  Mary  Anerlra SO 

1086  Alice  Lorraine SO 

1038  Oristowell 91, 

1087  Clara  Vaughan 90* 

1088  Ortpp*  the  Carrier 90 

1038  Remarkable  History  of  Sir  Thomaa 

Upmora 90 

1040  Biema;  or.  My  FatUer's  Stai 90 

BT  UIXIE  D.  HT.Agu 

106    Woman's  Place  To-day 90 

687    Fettered  tor  Life W 

BT  ABBIB  BBASSHAW 

716    A  Oriroaoa  Stain 90 

BT  GHABIOTTB  BXEMEB 

448    Life  of  Frodrika  Bremer 90 

BT  CBABIiOTTB  BBOBTE 

'4    Jane  Byre 90 

SW    Shirley 90 

BT  BHOBA  BBOTOXTOB 

93  Second  ThoughU 90 

930  Belinda 90 

781  Betty*!  Viaiona 16 

841  Dr.Onpid  90 

1099  Qood-Bya,  Sweetheart 90 

VKU  BedasaBoaeiiiSbe 90 

1094  Cometh  up  as  a  Flower 90 

1095  Not  Wisely  but  too  Well 90 

1096  Nancy 90 

1097  Joan 90 


bt; 


TX 


Auroia  Leigh. 
Poems 


.at 

.85 


491 
470 

BT  BOBXBT  BBOWBIBO 

669    Selactions from  Poetical  Works..... 80 

BT  WnxIAX  CVLLBB  BBTAHT 

448   Poems so 

BT  BOBKBT  BVOHAVAH 

The  New  Abolorl 90 

The  Msster  of  the  Mine 10 

BT  JOEK  BVHTAB 

The  Pilgrim's  Progreea ...'ij 

BT  BOBBBT  BTJBH8 

Poems 91 

BT  XBV.  JAB.  8.  BVSE 

Mora  Words  about  the  Bible 90 

BT  B.  LA88BTEB  BTBBBB 

100    Nimport,*  Farts,  each IS 

onsLSr 


818 
606 


900 


480 


113 


108   Tritons^  9  Parts,  each. 


.11 


lovell's  library. 


060 

sn 

013 

S6U 
960 


BT  TSOMAS  OAMPBBLL 

n    Poemii * 

BT  BOBA  HOVOSBTl  GABBT 

For  UliM 3C 

Not  Like  other  Glrta SJ 

Robert  Ord'i  Atunament JO 

Wee  Wine »{ 

Wooed  and  Married 80 

CABIXION 


JOG 
.880 
881 
Bit 
803 
884 
8SS 
880 
837 
888 
889 


4E6 

494 

5U0 

BOS 

es 

614 

sao 

6S8 
635 
698 
641 
640 
660 
661 
671 
678 
680 
69t 
610 
6i» 
fi3)i 
»■» 
098 

OSB 

018 

(Ma 

640 
Cfi3 
056 
OBS 

661 


BT  WM. 

Wiily  BelllT S" 

Shdue  F«dn'«  Wedding JO 

I*rry  MoFuUnd'i  W«ko lU 

The  Party  Fight  and  Fonanl lU 

The  Midnight  Hum 10 

Pliil  Parcel JJ 

AnlrhhOath JO 

Ootng  to  MajDOOth JO 

Phelim  OToole'ii  Oonrtahip 10 

Domlnick,  the  Poor  Soholar 10 

NoalMalom 10 

BT  THOMAS  OABLTIB 

BMory   of   French   Bavolation,  t 

Fart^esch » 

Part  and  Preaent 8U 

The  Diamond  Neoklaoo ;  and  Mira- 

bean W 

Obartifln 80 

Sartor  Beaarttu 80 

Barly  Klnga  of  Norway 80 

Jean  Paol  Friedrioh  Riohter 10 

Ooethe,  and  Miscellaneous  Essays. . .  JO 

Llfaot  Keync. Jo 

Voltaire  and  Ncraliii. 16 

Heroes,  and  Hero- Worship SO 

Signs  of  the  Times Jo 

German  Uteiatnre J » 

Portraits  of  John  Knox Jo 

Count  OagUostro,  etc  15 

Frederick  the  Great,  Vol.  I 80 

»         »         ••      Vol.11 80 

M         "        "     Vol.111 20 

.1        ••        "     VoUIV SO 

••         ••         •<      VoLV SO 

«        "        "      Vol.  VL  SO 

«        »        •'      Vol.Vn 80 

I.        ..        M     VoLVUI 80 

Ute  of  John  Sterling «) 

Latter-Day  Pkmphleta. M 

UfeotBolilller » 

Oliver  Cromwell,  Vot  1 85 

"         Vol.  II 85 

u  «         Vol.  Ill 85 

Chaiaoteriatiai  and  other  Bssays. . .  J5 
Com  Law  Rhymes  and  other  K««ys.l6 
BnilUe  the  Covenanter  and  other  Ea- 

15 
.15 


says  

Dr.  Fianoia  and  other  Kssays. . 


480 
481 


BT  LEWIS  CABBOLL 

Alica*s  Adventores 90 

Through  the  Looking-Qlasa 80 

BT"CAVXin>I8H» 
4n   CavendUh  Card  BMaya. IS 

BTCIBTAHTBS 

417"  Don  Qntxots *> 

'    BT  L.  W.  OEAMnnET 
M»   BoorbonUIlea » 


BT  TIOTOm  OBIBBVUB 

•49   SamoalBroblftOo...     M 

BT  BXBTBA  M.  OLAT 

18»  nor  Mother's  81n 90 

977  Dora  Thome. 90 

987  Beyond  Panlor. 90 

480  A  broken  Wedding-Ring 90 

493  Repented  at  Lsliiura  W 

458  Runshine  and  Hoses 80 

4*16  The  Earl's  Atonement » 

474  A  Woman's  TempUtlon 90 

476  Love  Works  Wonders 90 

B68  Fair  bnt  False JO 

6)18  Between  Two  Bins JO 

661  At  War  with  Herself J6 

680  Hilda W 

6be  Her  Martyrdom ** 

(M  Lord  Lynn's  Choice JO 

0B4  The  Shadow  of  aSIn J» 

605  Wtidded  and  Parted JO 

700  In  Cupid's  Net V) 

701  Lady  Damar's  flocrel 80 

718  A  Gilded  Sin JO 

7S0  Between  Two  Loves W 

TW  For  Another's  Sin JO 

780  Bomauooof  aYoungGlrl 80 

788  A  Queon  Amongst  Women JO 

738  A  Golden  Dawn JjJ 

789  Like  no  Other  Love 10 

740  A  Bitter  A^nement 80 

744  Evelyn's  Folly W 

759  Bet  In  Diamonds W 

764  A  Fair  Mystery....... » 

800  Thorns  and  Ornngs  Blossoms. JO 

801  Romance  of  a  Black  Veil JO 

808  Love's  Warfare jO 

804  Madolin'S  Lover JO 

800  Prom  Out  the  Gloom jO 

807  Wliioh  Loved  Him  Best 10 

808  ATrue  Magdalen JO 

800  TheSinotaUfetime 90 

810  Prince  Charlie's  Daughter. JO 

811  AGolden  Heart W 

819  Wife  In  Name  Only.  JO 

816  AWoman'sBrror JO 

800  Marjorie JO 

999  A  Wilful  Maid  JO 

998  Lady  Castlemalne's  Divoroa JO 

980  Claribol's  Love  Story JO 

988  Thrown  on  the  World JO 

990  Tinder  a  Shadow W 

980  A  Struggle  for  a  Ring JO 

933  Hilary's  Folly JO 

933  A  Haimted  Life JO 

934  A  Woman's  Love  Story JO 

069  AWoman'sWar SO 

984  'Twixt  Smile  and  Tear. 80 

985  I^y  DUna's  Pride JO 

980  BeUe  of  Lynn JO 

988  Marjorie's  F4te JO 

089  Sweet  Cymbellne »{ 

1007  Redeemed  by  Love « 

1013  The  Squire's  Darling JO 

1013  The  Mystery  of  .Colde  Fell 90 

BT  BZV.  JAS.  nOXMAS  OLAXK 

167   AnU-Stoveiy  Dayfc *• 

BT  8.  T.  0OISBn»S 


mOBIIBVIIII 

»l*Co...    «• 

tTBA  X.  OLAT 

a  sin *0 

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tLaliiun  30 

lailowi SO 

itonament W 

TempUtlon 10 

I  WoDdcn to 

IM    10 

roStai W 

iHenelf W 

iom *0 

a  Choice >0 

»of  aain 10 

I  Parted 10 

Set W 

ir-afloCTet 90 

n 10 

to  Lovai S 

1*8  Bin «0 

P  •YonngOtrl JO 

mongit  Women 10 

hiwn IJJ 

Mr  Love 10 

naement *0 

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londi S* 

itery "0 

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f  kBtaokVeU 10 

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I^'or JO 

the  Gloom W 

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gdalen JO 

•  Ufetime *> 

wUe'e  Dangbtcr. 10 

aeart 10 

imeOnly.  JO 

I  Error JO 

iiiiid".  .'.'.".*'.".".!•*.'. to 

lemaine'B  Divsroa JO 

Love  Story w 

I  the  World JO 

hadotr JO 

iforaBlng JO 

OUT JO 

Jtife. JO 

'B  liove  Story JO 

•sWar SO 

lile  and  Tear. 90 

la'B  Pride SO 

ynn JO 

iWte SO 

nbeline ** 

I  by  Love SO 

»'a  Darling 10 

ery  ot.Oolde  Fell SO 

LS.naX]IA>  OL&XK 

eiyDayii SO 

.  T.  oomnittx 

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LOVELL'8  librart. 


BT  Wnxn  00LLDI8 

•  The  MnonBtooe,  Part  1 10 

0  The  Uoonatone,  Part  II 10 

M  The  Mew  Magdalen 10 

87  Heart  and  Sdenoe 80 

418  "ISayMo" SO 

4>1T  Talea  of  Two  Idle  Apprentloea IS 

aSii  The  Ohost'aTonoh 10 

086  My  Lady'B  Money 10 

7«i  The  Bvll  Oealua K 

889  The  Ooilty  Blver 10 

WT  The  Dead  aeoret SO 

'  MM  ThaQaaenof  Umif W 

1008  The  Haoatad  Hotd 10 

BT  HVOH  OOVWAT 

<I9  Called  Back ....15 

MS  Dark  Daya 15 

•IS  OitrriBton'a  out 10 

•17  FaolVaigaa:  aKyrtery. 10 

•81  A  Family  AOUr W 

ttn  Btorj  of  a  Sculptor 10 

•n  SUngt  and  ArrowB 10 

716  A  Cardinal  Bin M 

746  LWingorDead 80 

7S0  Somebody'B  Btary 10 

M8  BonndbyaSpeU 90 

BT  J.  VBBIKOXI  COOFBX 

«  The  Laat  ot  the  Mohicans tO 

B8  ThaBpy iM 

•86  ThePathnnder 80 

878  Homeward  Bonnd 80 

441  Homeaa  Found 80 

453  The  Deeralayer 80 

487  ThePrairie 80 

4ni  ThePionear 8B 

484  TheTwoAdmirala 80 

488  The  Water-Witoh 80 

401  TheBedBovir 80 

BOl  The  Pilot 80 

506  WlngandWing 80 

B18  Wyandotta 80 

BIT  Bsidenmaaar 80 

B19  TheHeadtmaii 80 

BS4  The  Brmvo 80 

687  Uonsl  Lincoln W 

69U  Weptof  Wiah-ton-Wiah 80 

B88  Afloat  and  Adiare 85 

6»9  MilaBWallingfenl 10 

648  TheMooikiBS 80 

648  MercedeaotOaatUa 80 

658  TheSaaUona , 80 

669  TheOrater 80 

608   OakOpeningi 80 

670  BataaBtoe 80 

678    The  Chain-Bearer 80 

687   WayB  of  the  Hour 90 

601    Preaantian 80 

608    BedaMna 95 

•11    JackTier 80 

BT  XTWAWATff  C0BHWALU8 
408   Adrift  with  a  Vengeance 85 

BT  THB  00VBTX88 

1088  A  PkBBion  Flower 80 

1041  The  World  Between  Them 90 

BT  OXOHeiAHA  V.  OXAIX 

lOMADaogtilerof  UMPaopt* 80 


BTB.CBIIWXU 

860   Orudfather  Liokahingia  tt 

BT  B.  H.  DAXA,  JB. 

4M    Two  Teara  bafore  the  Ma«t 80 

BT  SAHIB 

848    Dante'B  Tialon  of  Hall,  Punpuory, 
and  Faradiaa 80 

BT  BLOBA  A.  DABUXtt 

860   Htb.  Darliag'B  War  Latteta 80 

BT  JOTOB  OABBBLL 

SIB   Winifred  Power  80 

BTAIFBOVIB  BAVBBT 

478   Tartarin  of  Taraaoon 80 

804    SIdonle 80 

618    Jack m 

615    The  Little  Qoodfor^Mothlng 80 

(M5    TueNabiib 8B 

BT  BBV.  0.  H.  DATIB8,  DJ>. 

458    Myatic  London SO 

BT  THB  DXAB  OB  ST.  PAOL'8 

481    Life  of  Bpenaer 10 

BT  0.  DXBAH8 
475    A Bheep in  Widfa Clothing ...SO 

BT  BEY.  C.  r.  DBBM8,  DJ). 

704   BroluUon 80 

BT  DANIBL  DBBOX 

488    Boblnaon  Croaoe 95 

BT.TE06.  DX  QVHrOBT 

80    The  Bpaniab  Nun IQ 

BT  0HABU8  BIOXBVS 

10  OHverTwiat 80 

88  A  Tale  of  Two  Oittea SO 

75  Ohild'B  HlBtory  of  Bngland SO 

91  Pickwick  Papera,  S  Parbs  each SO 

140  The  Cricket  on  the  Hearth  10 

144  Old  Onrlcrity  Shop,  8  Part*,  each. . .  15 

160  Bamaby  Budge,  8  Parta,  each 15 

168  David  OopperlMd,  9  Parta, each.... 10 

170  HurdTimra. SO 

108  Oreat  ExpectationB...   80 

801  lfartlnChnialewit,8FaitL«Mh....80 

810  American  Notea 80 

919  Dombey  and  Son,  8  Parta,  each 90 

888  Little  Dorrit,  8  Parte,  each. SO 

838  Oar  Mntoal  Friend,  8  Parta,  each... SO 

981  inohiria8Nickleby,9PartB,eaoh....80 

884  Piotorea  from  Italy 10 

887  TheBoyatMngby 10 

844  Bleak  Honae,  9  Parta,  each 90 

946  Bkatoheti  of  the  Yonng  Ooaplea, ...  .10 

961  Mnater  Humpbrey'B  Clock 10 

967  The  Haunted  Honae,  etc 10 

870  The  Mudfog  Fapera,  eto 10 

878  Sketohea  by  Boa. 90 

874  A  Chriatmas  Carol,  eto. IB 

888  Uncommercial  Traveller. SO 

S88  Somebody'B  Luggage,  eto. 10 

893  The  BatUe  of  Lite,  eto 10 

S9T  Myateryot  BdwinDrood 80 

998  Beprinted  Piecea   90 

809  Mo  Thoroughfare IB 

4in  Tttlea  of  Two  Idle  AppMatiaaa,,  , .  .11 


t  I 


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Kr 


LOVBLL'S  LIBRARY. 


BT  CtABl  DBTLBV 

91   Im« ;  or,  Tlw  OnMlr  Manor 10 

BT  FBOr.  OOWBBB 

«M    Ufeut  Boulhey 10 

BT  JOHB  BBTSBB 

498    Foami.  SO 

BT  DV  BOnoOBBT 

1018  Ooodeinnod  Door 10 

BTTHB"OV0HBn" 

U    PortU fO 

78   Holl/Bswil 10 

TO    I'hyUli SO 

86    Moolm 10 

80    Un.O«oSr«y w 

«a    Airy  P*iT7  tUiMi  tU 

IM    Luyi,  LonI  BorMford 80 

198    Uoonahine  and  llu«u*rit« 10 

IHI    Valth  and  Uafklth  80 

188    Bmntjp'a  Daughter* 8U 

884    Huamoyiia 80 

451    Dorta 80 

477    A  Wei-k  In  Killarnoy  10 

630    In  Durenco  Vile 10 

618    Dlok'i  Bweethaart ;  or  *'0  Tcndtr 

Dolorw" 80 

881    A  Vaidan  ail  Forlorn 10 

084    A  Faitaive  Ortma lu 

tn    Lady  Brunknneni 80 

786  A  Mental  atmRgle 80 

787  Tbe  Haonted  OluunlMr 10 

788  HerWeek'a  Ammeinant 10 

008    Lady  Taiwortli'a  Diamonda 80 

BT  lOBB  BTJBTBBni 

05   tiettera  from  High  Latltndai. 10 

BT  ALBXABBBB  DVMAl 

TBI  Count  of  Monte  Orirto,  Fart  I. 80 

701  Oonnt  of  Monte  Criito,  Part  IL.  . .80 

778  Tba  Ttuae  Onardmiea 80 

788  Twenty  Tean  After 80 

884  Tliagaaof  HontoOrWo,  I>aitl....80 

884  Tlie  80s  of  Monte  Crlat-i,  Fart  II. . .  80 

886  Monte  Oriito  and  His  WIfa 80 

881  Oonnteaa  of  Monte  Orlrto,  Fart  I. .  .80 

881  Ooontaa  of  Monte  Orlito,  Fart  II...aO 

M8  BaaaTancrade 80 

BT  ALBXABBBB  SVIIAS,  n. 
098   Oamille 10 

BT  KBS.  ABBIB  ESWABDI 

881    AOirtonOiri 90 

BT  OBOBOB  BUOT 

BA   Adam  Bede,  8  Parti,  aaoii.. 

60   AmoM  Barton 

71    SUasMamer 

78   Romola,  9  Parta,  each 

148    Janet'a  Bapentanoe. 


....16 
...10 
...10 
...15 

_   .   ...10 

151    Felix  Holt 80 

174    Middlamarob,  8  Farta,  eadi 80 

196    Daniel  Defonda,  8  Parta,  eaoli 90 

909   Tiieophraiitae  Bncb 10 

906  The  Bpaniiihay|My.and  other  Fo«nu80 

907  TheMiUontheFtaiii,9Parta,aaah.l5 

908  Brother  Jacob,  etc 10 

SM    Baaaya,  and  Leavea  ftom   •  Note- 

Book 90 


BT  M.  BlTRAM-BBir ABDt 

90S    DIannad ]$ 

888    The  Floww  of  Doom ilO 

1008  Maxt  of  Kin 80 

BT  BALPH  WALBO  BBOBMB 
tn   laajr* 80 

BBOUIH  MBB  OF  IBTTBBS. 
BBITBO  BT  JOHB  HOBLBT 

848  Bnnyaa,  by  J.  A.  Frond* 10 

407  Bnrka,  by  John  Morley 10 

884  Borni,  by  Prlaoipal  Bhairp. 10 

847  Byron,  by  FrotateorMiohol 10 

418  Obaooer,  by  Prof.  A.  W.  Ward.....  10 

494  Oowpar,  by  Ooldwin  Smith 10 

877  Defoe,  by  William  MInto It 

8H8  Oibbon,  by  J.  0.  Morriaon 10 

8IB  Goldmith,  by  William  Blaok. 10 

860  Unma,  by  ProfaMor  Unzley 10 

401  Johnion,  byLealle  Btapbea 10 

880  Locke,  by  Thomaa  Fowler 10 

898  Milton,  by  Mark  Fattiuo 10 

888  Pope,  by  LnUe  Stephen 10 

864  Soott,  by  B.  H.  Button 1« 

861  Shelley,  by  J.  Bymonds 10 

404  Sonthey,  by  Protmor  Dowden 10 

431  Bpenier,  by  the  Dean  of  St.  Paul'i. .  10 

844  Thaokenky,  by  Anthony  TroUope. . .  10 

410  Wordiworth,  by  F.  Myan 10 

BT  B.  £.  VABJBOB 

94S   Oantran ;  or,  Uoom  of  White  Shad> 

owt 80 

684    Lore'i  Harreak 80 

866    Golden  Bella 10 

874   NlnaofHaaita 80 

BT  BABBIBT  BABUT 

478   OhriaUnaa  Storiea 88 

BT  P.  W.  VABBAB,  D.B. 

10    SaekMi  after  Ood 80 

80    Early  Daya  of  Ohristtaaity,  9  Parta, 
aaoh 90 

BT  OBOBOB  MABBYILLB  IBBB 

1004  ThiaHan'i  Wife 80 

BT  OOTAYB  IXUHXBT 

41    A  Marriags  in  High  Life 80 

987    Bomanoe  of  a  Poor  Toong  Man 10 

BT  BBIBDBIOH.  BABOH  BB  lA 

MOTTB  rovauB 

711  Vndin* 10 

BT  KBS.  10BBI8TBB 

780  FklrWomen  89 

818  OnoeAgain 90 

848  My  Lord  and  My  Lady 90 

844  Dolona 80 

850  My  Hero 90 

859  Viva 80 

860  Omnia  Vanitaa 10 

ail  Diana  Oatew 80 

"t  From  Olympoa  to  Hadea 80 

888  Bhona 90 

884  BoyandTiola 90 

865  Jnne 90 

866  Mlgnoo 80 

SOT  A  TonngKMi'a  Flimsy '91 


848 


LOVELL'S  LIBRART. 


tAM-lVWABM 

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OOOB 10 

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HOrUTTllI. 
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A.  rroiida 10 

iHortoT 10 

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HnrMiohol 10 

«t.  A.  W.  Ward.. ...10 

dwin  Smith 10 

lam  Hlnto 10 

}.  MoRiaon 10 

WllUamBlaok. 10 

■MorUaxiar 10 

alia  Btapbaa 10 

naa  Fowler 10 

k  Fattiua 10 

Btopban 10 

Button 10 

irmoiula 10 

ifmor  Dowden 10 

DaaaofSt.  Paul'!..  10 
Anthony  TroUope. .  .10 
rr.Hjan 10 

VABJBOa 

ionaa  of  Whita  Bhad> 

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10 

10 

M 

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imrYiLLi  nmr 

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BT  TBmCAl  rOWIBB 

M    UlaofLoeka 10 

BTfBAHOBlOA 

177    Tha  Btory  of  Ida. 10 

BT  B.  B.  f  BABOIIXOB 

810    ARealQueao 00 

850    OuIdcnBaUa 10 

BT  AIBBBT  BBABXLTB 

in    Amallna  de  BoiUB 10 

BT  L.  VIBGnriA  IBBBOB 
48S    UrRoan K 

BT  J.  A.  TBOVBB 

848    LifaofBanyan 10 

BT  BULB  OABOBIAV 

114  Konalanr  Laooq,  3  rarta,  aaoh SO 

118  Tha  Laronga  Oaaa  SO 

ISO  Otbar  Peopla'a  Money SO 

ISO  InPerUofHiaLlfa SO 

188  TheOUded  Oliqua SO 

IBS  Ifystory  of  OroWal  SU 

101  Promlaa  of  Uarriana 10 

S68  FUaNo.118 ...SO 

BT  EBMBT  OBOBOB 

58    Proimiia  and  Povarty SO 

8«0    LandOneation lU 

803    SooialProblama SO 

790    Property  in  Land IS 

BT  OHAB£BI  OIBBOM 

67    Tha  Ooidaa  Shaft SO 

BT  J.  W.  TOM  OOBTSB 

84S   Ooethe'a  Panat. SO 

843    Qoetha'aFOMna SO 

BT  VnCOLAI  Y.  OOOOL 

1018  Tant  Bnlto SO 

BT  OUVBB  OOLDSMITH 

Bl    Tioar  of  Wakeilald 10 

a»S    Flaya  and  Poama SO 

BTMB&OOBB 

80    Tha  Daan'a  Danghter SO 

BTJAXBSOBABI 

49    Tha  Secret  Oaapatoh 90 

BT  HXni  eBBVILLB. 

1001  Franlday 90 

BT  OBCiL  eBiniTa 

78S   Vletory  Deane SO 

BT  ABTHUB  OBOTITHI 

700    Ko.  99 10 

THB  BB0THEB8  GBIMX 

331    Fairy  Taie^  lUnatnted 90 

BT  LiBUT.  J.  w.  evmriaoH 

440    Hlatory  of  the  HormonR 15 

BT  EBHST  HABOXBL 

Vr   India  and  Oeylon 90 

BT  MABIOir  HABLAHB 
107   Honwlraaplng  and  Honmmaking..  ■ .  15 


BT  T.  W.  HAOKUUnnB 

60S   Forbidden  trult 91 

BT  H.  BISBB  HABOABD 

818  King  8ok>moa'i  Hinaa Si 

848  She SO 

870  The  Witoh'a  Uead SO 

OUO  Jem SO 

»4i  Dawn SO 

1090  Allan  Qoatermata SO 

BT  A.  BOMOBT  EAXB 

871    The  Story  of  Ohinaaa  Oordon. Si 

BT  LVDOYIO  EALBTT 

L'Abfad  Oonatantln  90 


15 

48 

157 

740 
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904 


414 


360 


7 
187 


BT  THOMAI  EABDT 

TwoonaTower 90 

Bomantic  Adventiiree  of  a  Milk- 
maid  10 

The  Mayor  of  OaaterbridKe SO 

The  Woodlitndera SO 

Far  from  the  Madding  Crowd SO 

BT  JOEB  HABBUOV  AVD  M. 
OOMPTOH 

Orer  the  Bummer  Sea 90 

BT  J.  B.  HABWOOD 

One  Falae,  both  Fair 90 

BTJ08BPHHATT0B 

Clytie  90 

Cruel  London 90 

BT  HATHABIEL  EAWTHORBB 

870    Twice  Told  Take 80 

870    Grandfather's  Chair SO 

BT  XABT  CEOn  KAT 

466  TTndertheWUl 10 

666  The  Amndel  Motto SO 

BOO  Old  Myddleton'a  Money SO 

7H7  AWlokedOiri 10 

971  Nora'a  Lore  Tert SO 

CTS  The  Sqntra'a  Legaoy ...SO 

9n  Dorothy'a  Venture. 90 

974  MyFiratOfler. IC 

075  Back  to  I  he  Old  Home 10 

076  For  Her  Dear  Sake SO 

977  Hidden  Perlla 90 

978  Victor  and  VanquUhed SO 

BT  MBA  FBUCIA  HEKAMS 

588    Poema 80 

BT  BAVIB  J.  HXU,  IX.D. 

5SS    Prindplea  and  Fallacies  of  Sorial- 
iam 15 

BT  K.  L.  HOLBBOOK,  M.D. 

Hygiene  of  the  Brain S 

BT  MBS.  K.  A.  H0LMB8 

Woman  agamst  Woman Si 

A  WomanV  Vengeance 90 

BT  FAXTOM  EOOB 

Ufe  of  Oromwdl U 

BT  THOMAS  HOOD 


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BT  BOSBT  AHO  WEDU 

liUeotHuion M 

BT  BOBXBT  HOTTDIB 

Th«  Tricks  of  the  QTMka 90 

BT  ADAH  M.  HOWABD 

Against  Her  WUl 90 

TheOhildWife 10 


BT  BDVABD  HOWLAHB 

749   SocUd  Bolntloiu,  Part  I  10 

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Put  III 10 

Part  IV 10 

PartV 10 

Part  VI 10 

Parti  VII 10 

Part  VIII 10 

part  IX 10 

FartX 10 

PaitXI   M 

Part  XII 10 


BT  XABIE  HOWLAHB 

634   Papa';  ONm Oirl 80 

BT  JO£H  W.  HOTT,  U..B. 

636    Stndtes  in  Civil  Seivioo 16 

BT  TEOKAS  HTTOHES 

61    TomBrowD'iiSchoolDayR 90 

186    Tom  Brown  at  Oxford,  9  Part8,eacb .  16 

BT  PBOF.  HUZLET 

£69    UfeofHome 10 


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109    The  Bpoopendyke  Papers 90 

BT  VICTOB  HUGO 


784   Lea  UUMrablet,  Part  I 


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Part  II 90 

Part  III 90 


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147   The  Sketch  Book 90 

198  Talesc^aTraveUer 90 

199  Life    and   Voyaf(es  of    Columbus, 

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Part  II 90 

194    Abbotsf ord and  Hewitead  AblM]r...lO 
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949   The  Cisyon  Papers 90 

963    TbeAlhambr* 16 

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97U   Conquest  of  Spain. 10 

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BalmagnndL 90 

Astoria. 90 

Spanish  Voyages 90 

A  Toor  on  the  Prairies 10 

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Captain  Bonneville 90 

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111    Labor  and  Capital 90 

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839  UarkSeaworth 90 

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885  The  Young  Foresters 90 

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600    A  Brighton  Night 90 

795    Dr.  Wilmer'sLove 9B 

741    Lorimer  and  Wife 90 

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798  Prinoe  of  the  Hundred  Sonpe. 10 


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vera 10 

A  Strange  Story SO 

I«it  Daya  o(  Fompeil 3U 

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363   For  Raoh  and  For  All IB 

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1060  My  Lady  Green  BleeYea >0 

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The  Wandering  Jew,  9  Parta,  each  .90 

BT  BEAB  SWIFT 

68    OnllivCT»s  Travels 90 

BT  CHA8.  AIOEBROV  SWIB- 
BUBBS. 

413   Poema 90 

BT  J.  A.  8TK0HB8 

301    Lifoof  Shelley 10 

BT  E.  A.  TAIBX 

449    Talue's  English  Uteratuia 40 


BT  BXniLAI  CK^TOHBBIVIIK 

mTAVltal  QnaMoii » 

BT  LOBB  TBBBT80B 


769 
770 
793 
819 
Ml 


799 


776 


141 
148 
148 
166 
164 
179 
IW 
911 
990 


988 
969 
366 
369 
964 
980 
383 


91 


138 


8B6 


468 


640 


866 


BT  W.  M.  TEAOXBBAT 

Henry  Bimond 90 

DeniiDnval \,, 90 

Catherine 10 

LoTd,  the  Widower 10 

Barry  I^don 90 

Vanity  Fair 80 

History  of  Pendennie,  9  Parti,  each.  .90 

The  Newoomea,  9  Parti,  each 90 

Book  of  Snobs 10 

Paris  Sketohea 90 

Adventuresof  Philip,  9  Parts,  each    15 

The  VirRbiiana,  9  Parts,  each 90 

Critical  BevieWs,  etc 10 

Eastern  Sketohea 10 

Fatal  Boots,  eto  10 

The  Fonr  Oeorges 10 

Fiuboodle  Papers,  eto 10 

Bonndabout  I>apers 90 

A  Legend  of  the  Bhine,  eto 10 

Cox's  Diary,  eto 10 

Irish  Sketches,  eto SO 

Hen's  Wives 10 

Novels  by  Bminrnt  Hands 10 

Character  Skotehea,  eto 10 

Christmas  Books 90 

BuUada 16 

Yellowplnsh  Papeta  10 

Sketohes  and  Travels  In  London. ...  10 

English  Humoristo.. IB 

Oreat  lloggarty  Diamond 10 

The  BoiHi  and  the  Blng 10 

BT  JTIBOE  D.  P.  TEOMPSOE 

The  Green  Monntain  Boys SO 

BT  TEEODOBE  TXLTOV 

Tempest  Tossed,  Parti. 95 

Tempest  Tossed,  Part  II 90 

BT  ABTBOHT  TBOIXOFE 

Hr.  Scarborongh's  Family,  9  Farts. 

each IB 

Antobiography  of  Anthony  TroUope.90 

Ufe  of  Thackeray 10 

An  Old  Han's  Love IS 

BT  F.  A.  TBPPBB 

Hoonshine 90 

BT  3.  TAB  LEBBEP 

The  Count  of  Talavera SO 

BT  vnten 

Foema  SB 

BTIVLEB  TEBBB 

800  Lsagosa  on  the  Amaaon 10 

The  Cryptogram 10 

Tour  of  the  World  in  Eighty  Days. .  90 

90,000  Leagues  Under  the  Sea SO 

The  HysteriooB  Uand,  8  Farts,  eMh.U 

BT  QVBBB  TICrrOBIA 

More  Leaves  tram  aLiffeiiktlMHi^- _ 
lands li 


11 


■niSw^iWK^f--;.. 


It  9  1^1 


lovbll's  library. 


)iMM<m M 

OBD  TMBWfWm 

« 

M.  THAOXXBAT 

mond 80 

val ».. SO 

« 10 

•  Widower 10 

ndon 80 

»ir 80 

f  Fendennia,  SPwrta,  ••oh..aO 

oonla(^a  Piirti,eMh aeO 

Inolw 10 

tohM 80 

«iiof  Philip,  8  FurtiuaMili   15 

tnUkni,  3  l^arU,  CMb SO 

lev1e*«,eto 10 

Jketohea... 10 

itii,eto  10 

rOeorpa 10 

ePapera,  eto lU 

out  I>Bpen SO 

1  of  the  Bhine,  eto 10 

u7,ato 10 

Itches,  eto SO 

»e«T?. 10 

r  Bminrnt  Hands 10 

r  Bkotches,  eto 10 

sBwdu 80 

IS 

Uiih  Papers  10 

nnd  Travels  in  London..  ..10 

Humorirts.. IB 

)Kgaity  Diamond 10 

I  and  the  Blng 10 

BE  D.  r.  THOMFBOir 
inMonntain  Bofs SO 

OODOBB  TILTOV 

Tosged,  Parti. 80 

Toned,  Fart  II 80 

THOHT  TBOIXOFE 

borough's  Family,  8  Farts, 

IraphV  of  An'tiuny  TroUope.90 

'hackersy 10 

fan'sLore IS 

v.  A.  TUFFXB 

DO 80 

7.  VAV  LEHVXP 
ntotTaUtTen SO 

BT  vnteiL 

86 

JVLES  TEBXZ 

[OSS  on  the  Amaaon 10 

ptogram 10 

the  World  In  Eighty  Days.  .SO 

eaguas  Under  the  Sea SO 

iterioos  Uand,  >  Farts,  eMh.lS 

IVIXV  VIOTOXIA 
KTsatroB  aUfeintlMHi^- 


IS 


413 


.SD 
.10 


.SO 


.10 


BI  I.  B.  WALfOBB. 

ine  Mr.  8^*- •  •;  •  •  ^  "C . . .  .lu 

]06»  The  History  ot  »_,«•*" |0 

lOBT  Tho  Baby-s  Orandmothw ••••?" 

lOMTroubleime  Daughter •  «» 

1U6»  Cousins 

BY  OEOBOB  WALKBB 

The  Three  Bpanlaids 

BT  PBOr  A.  W.  WABD 

Ijfs  of  Ohauoer 

BY  J.  WABBBH  ^^ 

iKt   Doris'  Fortune .n. ,__, 

ig    At  tl»  world;.  Merg^ •/."•.SO  Iwi 

gSl    The  Houseon  the  Maisn ^ 

H  ?&o.b;*n«:::-.":- ■•■•■•■*> 

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tU   Ten  Thou-nd  •  Tear,  |^  Jj-   - jg 

"        ..         "     pa«tm....so 


BT  ».  P.  wnxn 

Poems " 

31 0. ».  wnroATB 

Twilight  Olnb  Tracts W 

BY  BMinHD  YATB5 

TW   Running  the  Gauntlet » 

7M   Broken  to  Hamasa •« 

BY  OHABLOITB  M.  YOHOB 

AHodemTelanuwhus ^ 

LoTeaadUCe. *". 

BYBB1IB8X  A-YOIWO        I 

Baibam'a  Blval H 

A  Woman'a  Honor «" 

■I80XII.ANE0VS 


183 


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600 


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BY  DXSELBB  WBLOH 

lite  of  Grover  Cleveland^ »« 

BTB-WEBBEB 

AtaBlShFrice g 

Vbieta 

BT  MBB.  BBBBT  WOOD 


so 


SBUfeofW^inBton " 

87  Paul  and  Virginia. JJ 

47  Baron  Munohaunon ' 

«a  The  Vendetta,  hy  "»'»«'    • ; :  •  •  •  •  •  S, 

Wl  Margsret  mrd  her  BridennBld. ^ 

72  Queen  of  the  County « 

96  The  Gypsy  Qi'«n-- ^ 

118  A  New  lieane  of  Life „ 

l«tt  Beyond  the  Simrlw  ...•••••     Jj 

181  Whlrt,  or  Bumblepuppy^^...   .•••^*" 
S80  Modern     Ohrtetlanlty    a    Civilised 

Heathenium •••■  •■• is 

Sne  Plutarch's  Uves.  B  P«rt^  each W 

991  Famous  Put  ny  Fellows *> 

»«'y'?°'X.'?'^rw;.k:.v.v;::::::.8o 


m 


4S0 


063 


80 


Widow  Bedott  Papers. 

BT  J.  0.  WHItTIBB 
Poems 

BT  VlOiat  WHTTB 
Her  Johnnie 

IT  W.  «.  WILLIA1I8 
Bdenoa  in  Short  Chapters. 


.30 


.30 


BastLynne ^\   88«  Every-Day  Oook-Book. *» 

TheMystery. " 840  Clayton's Bmngers..^ g 

_— wva   iiiui'l'imira.  886  BwlBS  Family  BoblnsMi *" 

BT  UBS.  WHIX«il*»  .  wo  °y,dhood  of  the  Wortd  ••••••  •■  -g 

8OT  Arabian  Nlght.J5ntert.lnmente^^.» 
408  How  He  Beached  the  White  Honse.n 

488  Wrecks  In  the  Sea  ofUfe « 

484  Typhalnes  Abbey rS 

488  The  Child  Hunters " 

887  A  Wilful  Toung  Woman g 

986  The  Story  of  Our  Mees " 

9fl7  The  Three  Biunmers an 

14)19  Boeur  Louise 


.30 


.80 


""•""■^OHN  W.  liOVML  COMPAHY. 


LOVELL'8    LIBRARY. 


l^A.TEiS'r       KSSXJZSS* 


960  At  the  World'*  Mercy,  F.  Warden  .10 
•81  The  Honse  on  tbe  ifurali,  by  F. 

Warden SO 

•8*  Deld^>e.  by  F.  Warden  SO 

983  A  Prince  of  Oarkneaa,  by  Warden.  .80 

984  Tnrlxt  8mile  and  Tear,  by  Clay ..  .SO 
93S  Lady  DUna'a  l^lde,  by  B.  H.  Clay.  .SO 

930  Belle  of  Lyna,  by  BertbaM.  CIM..  .90 
9ST  Boniiia.:eo(aFoorYon&gICan,by 

Ootave  FeaUlet  10 

988  Marjorlti'j  Kate,  by  BertbaM.  Clay  .90 

989  Jlweet  CymbeUne/by  B.  M.  Clay . .  .90 
999  Open  Sesame,  by  Florence  Marryat  90 

931  Had  Damareaq,  by  F.  Xanyat. . .  .80 

999  Camllle,  by  Alexandns  Domaa,  Jr..lO 
998  Tbe  ChUd  Wife,  br  A.  M.  Howard.lO 
•94  Lnqr  Crofton,  by  Ibv.  OUpliant.. .  .19 
•99  WUoIi  ShaU  It  BeT  by  £n.  Alex- 

andw 80 

•••  The  Qneen  of  Heart*,  by  Colllna. .  .SO 
•9T  The  Uolden  Hope,  by  W.  C.  BnaaelLSO 
•98  Bean  Tanorede^  by  Alez.  Dnnuui  90 
•99  Flghtlnc  the  Air,  to  F.  Hanyat.  .80 
UOO  BtedeiloktheUrMktandlilaConrt, 

by  Lomaa  Xtthlbaeh. 80 

1901  Ftankley,  by  Henri  OrevUle 90 

1009  T9  CaU  Her  Mine,  by  W.  Beaaiit.80 
lOOB  The  Haunted  Hotel,  by  W.  CoUlna.10 
lOM  Tula  Man's  Wife,  by  O.  M.  Fenn.  .80 
109B  Next  of  Kin  Wanted,  by  M.  Beth- 

am-Bdwaidi. SO 

1000  A  Danghtw  of  the  People,  by 

Georglana  M.  Cialk. 80 

loor  Redeemed  by  Ix>Te.  by  B.  M.  Clay.SO 
1098  Marrylnc  and  Oivliis  In  Marrtaoe, 

by  Mn.  Moiesworth 10 

1009  The  areat  Heaper.  by  F.  Bamtt..80 

1010  Mra.  Gregory,  by  Agnea  Bay. . . .  .SO 
lOU  PlrBteaoftheFralrleB,byA]iiiitrd.lO 
1018  The  Banire'B  Darliiig,  by  Clay. . .  10 
1«U  The Myatwy  of  Oolde Fell.  byOiay.SO 

1014  The  Daojriiter  of  an  Bmpreaa,  by 

LontaaMOhlbacli 80 

1015  PembertoB.  hy  Henry  PetenNMi...80 

1016  Taraa  Bolba.  by  Nikolai  V.  GaooL.SO 
lOlT  A  Vital  OneaUon.  by  NttoliI  Q. 

TohemaabeTaky 80 

1018  The  Condemned  Door,  by  F.  dn 

Bolagpbey 80 

1019  SoenrLoolae  (Lontae  de  BraneTaI)SO 
lOM  Allan  Onatermaln.  tar  Haggard. .  .80 
1081  The    Trapper^i    nnghltf.    by 

Gnatave  Aimard 10 

1088  Good-Bye,  Sweetheart,  by  Bhoda 

Broagnton  80 

1088  Bed  aa  a  Rose  is  She,  by  Bhoda 

Bronghton 80 

1084  Cometh  up  aa  a  Flower,  by  Rhoda 

Broiuriiton 80 

1085  Not  WlMly,   Bat  Too  WeU,  by 

Bhoda  Brooghton sol 


1086  Naaey,  by  Rhoda  Broaglitoa. 89 

108T  Joan,  by  Bhoda  Broogaton SO 

1088  A  Near  Beiatlon,  by  Coleridge.....  80 

1089  Brenda  Yorke,  ty  Mary  CecU  Hay.  lo 

1090  On  Her  Wedding  Mom,  by  Clay. .  10 

1091  The Shatteredldol,  by  B. M. Clay.  10 

1038  The  Tiger  Slayer,  by  O.  Aimard..  10 
1088  lictty  Celgh.  bT  Bertha  M.  Clay. ..10 
1084  Ibuy  Anerley,by  R.  D.  Blackmore.80 

1039  AUce  Lorrame,  by  Blackmore. . .  80 
1086  Chriatowell.  byR.  U.  Blackmore.. 80 
lOST  Clara  Vanghan.  by  Blackmore.. .  .80 

1088  Crippg  the  carrier,  by  Blackmore.80 

1089  RemarkableHlatoryofSlrThomaa 

Upmore,  by  R.  D.  Blaokmore. .  .80 

1040  Bremas  or.  My  Fatber'a  Bin,  by 

R.  D.  Blackmore so 

lOa  The  Mystery  of  the  Holly  Tree,  by 
BerthaM.CIay 10 

1041  The  Barl'a  Error,  by  B.  M.  Clay. .  10 
1048  Amold'a  Promlae,  by  B.  M.  Clay..ia 

1044  ForglngtheFetterB,byAIexaader.lO 

1045  The  "nrappen  at  Arkanaaa,  by 

Qnatave  Aimard • 10 

1046  Comln'  thro*  the  Rye,  by  MatherB.SO 
104T  Sam'a  Sweetheart,  by  Mathera....80 

1048  Story  of  a  Sin,  by  H.  B.  MaUierB..sa 

1049  Cherry  Ripe,  by  H.  B.  Mathen. .  .80 

1050  My  Lady  Omen  Sleevea,  by  Math- 

era SO 

1051  An  Unnatural  Bondage,  by  Clay . .  10 
1068  Uorder RUea.  by  Qoatave  Almard.ia 

1068  Gold  nile.  by  B.  Marlltt. 90 

1094  Goethe  and  Bohlller,  by  Mtthlbaob.S,! 
loss  Mr.  Smith,  by  L.  B.  waUord. . .  .80 
1056  TheHlatoryof  •Weak.byWalford.lO 
lOSr  The  Baby'a  Grandmother,  by  Wal- 

ford SO 

1068  Tronbleaome  Daoghtera,  by  Wal- 
ford to 

1059  Conalns,  bjL.  B.  Walford 20 

1060  Tbe  Bag  en  DiamondJ,  by  Fenn   20 

1061  Red  Spider,  by  8,  Baring-Gould.  20 
1048  DIok'a  Wandering,  by  J.  8targlB..sa 
1068  The  Freebooten,  by  G.  Aimard. . .10 

1064  The  Duke's  Secret,  by  B.  M.  Clay  20 

1065  A  Modem  Olree.  by  The  Sachess  80 

1066  An  American  J>oiimey,byAveUng.S)i 
106T  Geoffrey  Moncton,  by  S.  Moodle..80 

1068  Flora  urndaay,  by  S.  Moodte 20 

106*  The  White  Scalper,  by  G.  Aimai  d  10 
lOTO  Confessions  of  an  BngUah  Opium 

Rater,  by  Thomas  de  Quincey . .  .20 
ion  Guide  of  the  Desert,  by  Aimard. .  1) 

From  AOvance  Sheets : 
lOTS  "  The  Duchess,"  by  The  Duchesa.SO 

10T8  Scheherasade,  by  F.  Warden 20 

10T4  Roughing  it  in  the  Bosh,  by  Su- 
sanna Moodie. SO 

10T5  The  Insurgent  Chief,  by  Aimard.  .19 


Dealers  oan  always  obtain  complete  Catalogue*  with  Imprint,  for  free  dlstrlbo- 
tton,  on  apidicatton  to  the  Publishers, 

JOHN  W.  LOYELL  COMPANY, 

14-  &  16  Vesey  Street,  New  York, 


RY. 


ROUGHING  IT  IN  THE  BUSH; 


MteBroaihtOD. M 

a  BrooBUtoa M 

}n,  by  Coleridge.....  SO 
,  i>y  Hary  Cecil  Bay.  10 
Ing  Horn,  by  Clay. .  10 
l3oI.byB.H.Ciay.l0 
rer,  by  Q.  Almanl..i0 
y  Bertha M.  Clay... 10 
by  R.  D.  Blackmore.lO 
),  by  Blaokmore. . .  M 
f  It  D.  BlaGkinore..M 
1,  by  Btackmore.. .  .90 
Tier,  by  Blackmore.M 
latory  of  SlrTltoinas 
R.D.  Blaokmore... 90 
ly  Fatber'a  Slii,  by 

Sre 90 

if  tbe  Holly  Tree,  by 

ly 10 

•or.  byB.X.Clay..iO 
ilae,  by  B.  X.  Clay..lO 
»ttera.oy  Alexander.lO 
■  of  Arkanaaa,  by 

ard 10 

be  Rye,  by  ](atlier8.90 
eart,  by  Matbera. . .  .90 
,  by  H.  B.  ]{aUierg..90 
byH.  B.  lIatberB...90 
m  Heevea,  by  Hath- 

90 

Bondage, by  Clay..  10 
by  Oaatave  Aliiianl.lO 

'E.MarUU. 90 

talller,  by  Mtttinmob.SJ 
L.  B.WaUord...    .90 
a  Week,by  Walford.lO 
andmotlier.  by  Wal- 

80 

Daoclitera,  by  Wal- 
....^ .n 

.  B.  Walford 20 

lamond^  by  Fenn  90 
y  8.  Baiing-Gonld.  20 
iriiur,  by  J.  8targl8..!() 
en,  by  G.  Almard. .  .10 
icret,  byB.M.CIay  90 
ee,  by  TbeBaoliesB  90 
Joiiniey,by  Avellng.sj 
stoii,  byS.  Xoodle..SO 

y,  byS.  Moodle 90 

iilper,  by  O.  Almai  d  ID 
r  an  EngUili  Opium 
omas  de<tnincey...90 
Desert,  by  Almard..!} 
jance  Sheets : 
8,"  by  Tbe  Daclieas.90 

,  by  P.  Warden lio 

n  the  Boah,  by  8a- 

e 90 

t  Chief,  by  Almard.  .10 

>rint,  for  free  dlatrlba- 


eet.  New  York. 


OB, 


-■rfi 


LIFE  IN  CANADA. 


BY  STJSANNAi^MOODIE, 

AUTHOE    or     "LIFE    «    TH.    OUOABINO^"    "  FLOBA    UNDSAT,"    AHD 


I  sketch  f»m  Katuie,  and  the  picture  '■  tree ; 
Whate'er  the  subject,  whether  grave  or  gay, 
Painful  experience  In  a  dlsUnt  land 
Hade  It  mine  own. 


■i 


§ 


{  Nn. w 


^^"3 


•r  w*sttv 


NEW   YORK: 
JOHN    W.    LOVELL    COMPANY,' 

14  AND  l6  VgSBY  SXRMT. 


\-  • 


■"34- 


""I 

/ 


»  '    I 


'•WTIna  AND  •OOKMImnM  OOMnHn', 
MWYMK, 


J..i.Jiii-".  """  '" " 


TO 

AGNES  STRICKLAND, 

Mai»rt/"TI»UiM^(lmOmimtf  Wn^mt," 
THIS    SIMPLE  TRIBUTB  OF  AFFECTION 

BY  HEH  SISTER, 

^U^ANNA  ^OODIE. 


ntWitiiiMim 


I  <i  Wf «■  arwrawiifJWMWiWiM 


PREFACE  TO  THE  AMERICAN  EDITION. 


-*•*- 


RonoHiKO  rr  m  thk  Bush  is  a  work  of  so  much 
merit,  the  scenes  and  adrentures  it  describes  are 
so  full  of  fireshness,  truth  and  humor,  the  tone  that 
prevades  its  entertaining  pages  are  so  healthy,  and 
the  lessons  it  teaches  are  so  profitable,  that  it  was 
thought  a  pity  for  its  wide  circulation  to  be  endan* 
gered  by  the  retention  of  any  extraneous  matter  that 
would  increase  its  bulk  and  its  context  without  add- 
ing to  its  attractions  or  value.  The  accomplished 
and  heroic  author  will  not,  therefore,  be  disposed  to 
complain  that  her  work  should  have  undergone  a 
careful  excision  of  certain  passages  of  a  purely  per- 
sonal or  political  character,  which  could  have  possess- 
ed no  interest  for  an  American  reader,  and  the  loss 
of  which  will  be  compensated  by  the  gain  of  a  larger 
audience  than  she  could  have  otherwise  hoped  for. 

Mrs.  Moodie  is  a  true  heroine,  and  her  simple^  nar- 
rative is  a  genuine  romance,  which  has  all  the  interest 
of  an  imaginative  creation.    Her  sister.  Miss  Agnes 


ilhi     •  ill  '   1 


""^"■^^i 


■jm 


PREFACE  TO  TBE  AMERIOAH  EDITIOlf. 

Strickland,  who  has  written  the  histories  of  the  Queens 
of  England,  has  never  recorded  the  life  of  a  more 
•noble  hearted  and  heroic  woman,  one  more  devoted 
to  her  duties,  or  more  courageous  in  their  fulfilment, 
than  will  be  found  developed  in  the  following  pagea 
Mrs.  Moodie  added  much  to  her  great  and  nobly 
deserved  reputation  by  writing  other  works  of  a  very 
interesting  character,  viz:  *'LiFE  IN  the  Clbajukgs 
vernu  The  Bush,"  and  "  Flora  Lindbat  ;  or,  Pass- 
ages IK  AN  EvENTTUL  LiFE ;"  both  of  which  books 
have  a  like  celebrity  with  "Roughing  it  in  the  Bush." 

THB  PUBLISBBR. 


mm 


0O2T  TENTS. 


OHAPTBB  l-A  VWt  to  QfO»«  W»-A  CiVt«ta  who  knowt  hta  Di«f — 
▲moag  Um  ImlfrMiU * 

CBATTtB  VL-qfiatt-Tbit  FlUU  of  llw»t«oiwcy-<Jp««r  Om«o«»' 
Offlo«*-l(«RyXMiewtimtlMB*Mrtlaa*d 1* 

OHAPrnilL— OarJonrMrapUMOoOBtry— AQoaekwhoOuM  the 
Oiiol«8r-"W«hMfaMlrHaMtitlMl)arr ■> 

OHAFTBR  IV.-Toai  WUaon'a  Imlcntkm— Bom  in  •  Shraod  aad 
Sooludiii»Ondlo-BaM^MidtlMBMrt.hallMlh>l » 

OHAFrnt  y.-0«r  tat  SattlNMnt  and  tiM  Bonowtng  Syttam-BMOii- 
eUadtoOanada— DoyoamattoBoysBoMlart M 

OHAFTSH  VL-OU  Bataa  and  Ton  WUaon'a  H oaa-Xr  Int  Canadian 
Loaf-Oood-lqra  I •* 

CfHAPTBR  Vn.— Unela  JToa  and  hla  Vamlly— A  Land  BpaeoUtor-Xy 
goodSooteliCMfl— Aakinglmpartlnant  QnaattoM M 

OHAFTBB  Vm.— John  Xoaaghan— An  Ohatinato  Woman— Foik  to 
kaapthaSagarframBamtaig 1" 

CHAPTIB  IX.— Fhobe  II and  our  Seeond  Xoring-Oh !  Land  of 

Wat«fa-Th«  HnmUa  FuMiaL !■ 

OHAPnCB  X.— Brian,  tha  StiU  Hontar-A  Farfoet  Baptohato-MUk  for 
tho  Child— KyflntHontinxBxeiiiaton IM 

CHAFTBR  XL— Tha  ChaiaTari- A  Spiritad  FBmUjr- InotdlnaU  Unra  of 
Draaa-AUtttoHandaaaaoMtp 1«> 

OHAPTKBXn.— ThaLawJohhar-AOoMtryatotalwipai   Aawkawa 
admUlUualSaparioriiy-OhtlatMSIaap-ThonalghBaUa....  lU 


.  * 


,  ^^t.MrtXK^'r- 


ROUGHING  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


-  •* 


^«» 


CHAPTBE  I. 

A   TIBIT   TO    OBO«««    1«1.«. 


A  MMM  M  para-w  MqoMt*  M  IklB. 


THE  ii««idftd  cholera  was  depopulating  Quebec  and  Moo. 
twal,  when  our  diip  cart  anchor  off  Grow  Ue,<m  tiie 
80di  of  Augurt,188a,and  we  were  boarded  a  fewmfaute. 
after  by  thoheaiawflBoem.    One  of  these  genttemen-aUtfle, 
shrivened^p  Fienohman-from  hia  aolenm  aspect  and  atten. 
oated  figure,  would  have  made  no  bad  repreaentative  of  Wm 
who  «at  upon  tJie  pale  hoi«j.    He  was  tfie  only  grave  French, 
man  1  had  erer  aeen,  and  I  naturaUy  enou^  regarded  Mm  aa 
a  phenomenon.     Hia  oompanioi^-a  fine-looUng,  ftirialied 
Scotchman-though  a  Mtde  cowKjquential  in  Us  manner^ 
looked  like  one  who  in  hia  own  perwm  could  combat  and 
vanquiA  an  the  evilB  which  flesh  ia  heir  tjK    SuchinisHie 
contrast  between  these  doctors,  that  they  would  have  formed 
wry  good  emblems-^)ne,  of  vigorous  health;  the  other,  of 
hopeless  decay. 
Our  captain,  a  rude,  blunt,  north-country  saflor, 


.  ^ 


souasmo  it  nf  ths  busb. 

certainly  not  more  poUteness  than  might  be  expected  in  a 
bear,  received  his  sprucdy-dreased  visitors  on  the  decl^  and, 
with'  very  UtfJe  courtesy,  abruptly  bade  them  foUow  him 
down  into  tfie  cabin.  The  oflRcials  wertf  no  sooner  seated, 
than,  glandng  hastOy  round  the  phioe,  they  commenced  the 

Ibllowiiig  dialogue : — 

«  From  wfcat  port,  captain  f 

Now  the  captain  had  a  peculiar  language  of  his  own,  tnm 
which  he  commonly  expunged  all  the  connecting  links.  Small 
words,  such  as  "and"  and  "the,"  he  contrived  to  dispense 
with  altogether. 

"Scotland— saUed  from  port  o'  Leith,  bound  for  Quebec, 
Montreal— general  cargo-seventy-two  steerage,  four  cabm 
passragers— brig  mnety-two  tons  burden,  crew  eij^t  hands. 
Here  he  produced  his  credentials,  and  handed  them  to  the 
strangers.    The  Scotchman  just  glanced  over  the  documents, 

and  Udd  them  on  the  table. 

"Had  you  a  good  passage  out r 

«  Tedious,  baffling  winds,  heavy  fogs,  detained  three  weeks 
on  Banka-foul  weather  making  Gulf— short  of  water,  people 
out  of  provirions,  steen^  passengers  starving." 

"  Any  case  of  dokness  or  death  on  boardl" 

"  All  sound  as  crickets." 

«  Any  births  1"  lisped  the  little  Frenchman. 
.  The  captain  screwed  up  his  mouth,  and  after  a  moment'a 
Meotkm  he  repUed,  " Birthsl    Why,  yes ;  now  I  think  ont, 
gentlemen,  we  had  one  female  on  board,  who  produced  three 

atabirth."  .^        ,     , 

"That's  uncommon,"  said  the  Scotch  doctor,  with  an  air  of 
Uvdy  curiosity.  «  Are  the  dnldren  alive  and  well  1  I  should 
like  much  to  see  them."  He  started  up,  and  knocked  his 
head,  for  he  was  very  tall,  agahist  the  ceiling.  "Confound 
yoor  low  cribs!    I  have  neariy  dashed  out  my  hratas." 


expected  in  • 
the  deck,  and, 
m  follow  him 
socmer  aeated, 
ommenoed  the 


'  his  own,  from 
g  links.  Small 
ed  to  dispense 

dd  for  Quebec, 
ige,  four  cabin 
«r  eight  hands.*' 
»d  them  to  the 
the  documents, 


led  three  wepki 
>f  water,  people 


ifter  a  moment*s 
now  I  think  on\ 
}  produced  three 

r,  with  an  air  of 
weUI  I  should 
and  knocked  his 
Ing.  "Coirfband 
lybrafas." 


A  VISIT  TO  OBOaSE  tSLM. 
«\  hard  task,  that,"  looked  tae  captain  to  me.    He  did 

^^rrtiJa'Sor^to^'L'rAXrd^y 

^uTu^^.^^  •"  ^  tobies,"  -id  Fraaer.  depoeiUng 
W.b^rnrrflc::;r.    umydocredittotheuur^ngof 

^'^'Sl^ftlltlghed,  chuckled,  and  rubbed  Id.  ^^^^ 
Jl     T;uH^t«rSe  indignation  and  disappointment  yun- 
eostooy  of  delight  at  ««» "f*^V.   Eeoulapius,  who,  angry 
ble  in  U«  countenance  of  the  S«»*«^*-^^ 

v.  _.  wiMlv  held  Ms  tongue.    Not  so  we  xreuwi---* 
as  he  was,  wisely  neia  »"    "*        ^^^  hi »  state  of  mo«* 

his  rage  scarcely  knew  ^'>^7*^^,^  ^h  captain, 
ludicrous  excitement,— he  shook  his  nss  »  our  «-» 

-~i -««iMned  at  the  top  of  Ws  ▼0M5e»  ^ 


4  jtovffsnro  IT  or  tbe  muss, 

ftam  die  oflieiab, »  biWe  wm  wquired  for  Um  oapUin  to  take 
«io»th. 

«*  CoDfinmd  it  l"  mattered  the  old  ■Olor,  tearing  over  the 
pftpen  hi  his  dedc ;  "  thftt  aooundrel.  Sua,  always  .stowa  my 
traps  out  of  the  way."  Then  taking  up  firom  the  table  a  book 
which  I  had  been  reading,  which  happoied  to  be  Voltairt't 
Hitlory  of  Chark$  JCIT.,  he  presented  it,  with  as  grave  an  air 
as  he  could  assume,  to  the  Frenchman.  Taking  for  granted 
that  it  was  the  Tolume  required,  the  little  doctor  was  too 
polite  to  open  the  book,  the  captain  was  duly  sworn,  and  the 
party  returned  to  the  deck.  Here  a  new  difikmlty  occurred, 
wMoh  nearly  ended  in  a  serious  quarrel  The  gentlemen  re- 
quested the  old  sidlor  to  pve  them  a  few  feet  of  old  planking, 
to  repi^  some  damage  which  their  boat  had  sustuned  the  day 
before.  This  the  captain  could  not  do.  They  seoned  to 
think  his  refiisal  intentional,  and  took  it  as  a  perstmal  aifrout. 
h  no  very  gentle  tones,  they  ordered  him  instantly  to  prepare 
Us  boats,  and  put  his  passengers  on  shore. 

<*  Stiff  breeze— short  sea,"  returned  the  bluff  old  seaman ; 
**  great  risk  in  making  land— boats  heavily  laden  with  women 
and  children  will  be  swamped.    Not  a  soul  goes  on  shore  this 

night." 

♦•  If  you  reflMe  to  comply  with  our  orders,  we  will  report 

you  to  the  authorities." 

••  I  know  my  duty — ^you  stidc  to  yoursi  When  the  wind 
ftll8o<i;niseetoit.  Notalifeshallbe  risked  to  pleaae 
joa  or  your  authorities." 

He  turned  upon  his  heel,  and  the  medical  men  left  the 
Teasel  hi  great  disdain.  We  had  every  ieaso»to  be  thankful 
for  the  firmness  displayed  by  our  rough  oommander.  Tliat 
same  evenbig  we  saw  eleven  persona  drowned,  fW>m  another 
teasel  dose  beride  us,  while  attempting  to  make  the  riwre. 

By  daybreak  aU  was  hurry  and  oonflMioB  on  board  the 


im 


oaptoin  tutakfl 

oaring  oTfflr  the 
«ys,atov8  my 
lie  table  a  book 
0  be  Voltaire'i 
tm  grave  an  air 
ng  for  granted 
loctor  was  too 
sworn,  and  the 
ioulty  ooourred, 
gentlemen  re> 
of  old  planking, 
ubiined  the  day 
hey  seemed  to 
jerstmal  afirmt. 
intly  to  prepare 

iff  old  seaman ; 
len  with  women 
lea  on  shore  this 

^  we  will  report 

When  the  wind 
isked  to  please 

al  men  left  the 
D»to  be  thankfiil 
imander.  lliat 
id,  from  another 
ike  the  shore, 
a  OB  board  the 


A   VISIT  TO  OBOSSE  J8LK  *     ; 

Anne.  I  wattbed  boat  after  boat  depart  for  the  island,  fldl 
of  people  «id  goods,  and  envied  them  *»»«  glorious  pnvdege 
of  ^  more  rtanding  firmly  on  the  e«rth.  after  two  lo^ 
months  of  rowing  and  rolling  at  sea.  ^f ^»fr^"i 
we  were  not  included  in  U.e  general  order  of  punficaUon,  but 
were  only  obliged  t«  send  our  servant,  with  the  clotbes  and 
bedding  we  had  used  during  the  voyage,  on  shore,  to  be 

^  The' ship  was  soon  emptied  of  all  her  live  cargo.    My 
husband  went  off  with  the  boats,  to  recomioitre  the  island, 
and  1  was  left  alone  with  my  baby,  in  the  othen^ise  empty 
vessel     Even  Oacar,  the  captain's  Scotch  terrier,  who  had 
formed  a  devoted  attachment  to  me  during  the  voyage,  forgot 
his  allegiance,  became  possessed  of  the  land  manuK  and  was 
awav  ^th  the  rest    With  the  most  intense  desire  to  go  on 
sho4  I  was  doomed  to  look  «.d  long  and  envy  every  ^ 
of  emigrants  that  glided  past    Nor  was  this  aU;  the  drip 
was  out  of  provisions,  and  1  was  condemned  to  undergo  a 
rioiafhit  until  theretumof  the  boat,  when  the  oaptam  had 
pSmiaed  a  supply  of  fredi  butter  and  bread.   T^^^^ 
been  nine  weeks  at  sea  i  Ae  poor  Steerage  paasenger.  for  the 

two  last  weeks  had  been  out  of  food,  and  the  captam  had 
been  obliged  to  feed  them  from  the  ship's  Stores,  lleproni. 
ised  bread  was  to  be  obtained  from  a  small  steamboat,  which 
plied  daily  between  Quebec  and  the  island,  transporting  ooiw 
valeeoent  emigrant,  and  their  goods  in  her  upward  tnp.  and 
provision,  for  the  sick  on  her  return.  Howl  "Jooed  «j 
Loe  more  tasting  bread  and  butter  I  '^''^^^^ 
the  treat  in  rtore  served  to  sharpen  my  appetrte,  and  lender 

the  long  fest  more  irksome. 
AsAe  sun  rose  above  the  hori«m,  all  these  matter^f-Ajt 

drcumstonces  were  gradually  foigotten,  -"d  m«rged  M^ 
surpassing  grandeur  of  the  scene  that  rose  miyestically  befi« 


■&. 


M: 


•yi^S'f^jrrfmrrrwyip 


6  Mou&Hma  rr  m  the  boss, 

me.  Tbe  previouB  day  had  been  dark  and  itormy ;  and  a 
heavy  fi)g  had  oonoealed  the  mountain  ohain,  which  forms  the 
stupendous  background  to  this  sublime  view,  entirely  from 
our  sif^t  As  the  clouds  rolled  away  from  their  gray,  bald 
brows,  and  oast  into  denser  shadow  the  vast  forest  belt  that 
.girdled  them  round,  they  loomed  out  like  mighty  givits— 
Titans  of  the  earth,  in  dl  their  rugged  and  awfid  beauty — • 
thrill  of  wonder  and  delight  pervaded  my  mind.  Hie  q>e(V 
fade  flkMted  dimly  on  my  sight — my  eyes  were  blinded  with 
tears — ^blinded  with  the  excess  of  beauty.  I  turned  to  the 
ri^^t  and  to  the  left,  I  looked  up  and  down  the  glorious  river ; 
never  had  I  beheld  so  many  striking  objects  blended  into  one 
mighty  whole !  Nature  had  lavished  all  her  noblest  features 
in  produdng  that  enchanting  scene. 

The  rocky  isle  in  fronts  widi  its  neat  fiomJioaaea  at  the 
eastern  point,  and  its  high  bluff  at  the  western  extremity, 
crowned  with  the  tel^;raph — the  middle  space  oooopied  by 
tents  and  sheds  for  the  cholera  patients,  and  its  wooded  shores 
dotted  over  with  motley  groups — added  greatly  to  ^e  pic- 
tnreaque  eflbot  of  the  land  seme.  Then  the  broad,  glittering 
river,  covered  with  boats  darting  to  and  fro,  conveying  pas. 
sengers  from  twenty'ifive  vessels,  of  various  sixe  and  tixmage, 
which  rode  at  anchor,  with  their  flags  flyfaig  from  the  maathead, 
gave  an  air  of  life  and  interest  to  the  whole.  Tnniit^  to  the 
south  side  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  I  was  not  less  strudt  with  ita 
low  fortile  ahwes,  white  housea,  and  neat  chnrdiea,  whose 
■lender  qrfres  and  bright  tin  rodb  shtme  like  diver  as  they 
caught  tin  first  rays  of  the  sun.  As  ftr  as  the  eye  could 
reach,  a  line  of  white  buOdings  extended  al(»g  the  bank ; 
their  background  formed  by  the  purple  hue  d  the  dense,  in. 
terminable  forest.  It  was  a  scene  unlike  any  I  had  ever 
beheld,  and  to  which  Britain  contains  no  parallel..  Mackenzie, 
■n  old  Sccitdi  dragoon,  who  was  one  of  our  passengers,  wbei 


W"v  ■ 


muf* 


^ 


[■tormj;  and  a 
rhioh  fonns  the 
entirely  ftom 
gny,  bald 
I  foreat  belt  that 
{bty  gianta— 
Iwfiil  beauty — • 
The  spetv 
blinded  with 
tutned  to  the 
glorious  river; 
ilended  into  one 
noblest  features 

n-houaes  at  the 
item  extremity, 
toe  occupied  by 
to  wooded  shares 
eatly  to  4he  pio- 
broad,  glittering 
>,  omiTeying  pas* 
nxe  and  tonnage, 
u  the  masthead, 

l^miiog  to  the 
s  struck  with  its 
diarohea,  whose 
te  silver  as  they 
I  the  eye  could 
long  the  banic ; 
^  the  dense,  in. 
my  I  had  ever 
lei..  Madiaizie, 
MWDgera^  wbei 


A  VISIT  TO  9B08SM  JSLK  1 

ha  rose  in  the  morning,  and  saw  the  pariah  of  St  Hmjoms  fi» 
the  first  time,  exdaimed— **  Weel,  it  beats  •*!  Can  thae 
white  clouts  be  a'  houses!  They  look  like  daes  hung  out  to 
drie !"  There  was  some  truth  in  this  odd  comparison,  and  for 
some  minutes,  I  could  scarcely  convince  myself  that  the  white 
patches  soattored  so  thickly  over  the  opposite  shore  could  be 
the  dwellings  of  a  busy,  lively  populati<Hi. 

"  What  sublime  views  of  the  north  side  of  the  river  those 
habifatu  of  St.  lliomas  must  enjoy,"  thought  L  Periu^M 
&miliarity  with  the  scene  has  rendered  them  indifferent  to  its 
astonishing  beauty. 

Eastward,  the  view  down  the  St.  Lawrence  towards  tlw 
Guli^  is  the  finest  of  all,  scarcely  surpassed  by  any  thing  in  the 
world.  Tour  eye  follows  the  long  range  of  lofly  mountwns 
imtil  their  blue  summits  are  blended  and  lost  in  the  blue  of 
the  sky.  Some  ofthese,  partially  deared  round  the  base,  are 
^winkled  over  with  neat  cottages ;  and  the  green  slopes  that 
spread  around  them  are  covered  with  flocks  and  herds.  The 
surfiKse  of  tiie  splendid  river  is  diversified  with  islands  of 
every  siae  and  shape,  some  in  wood,  others  partially  cleared, 
and  adorned  with  orchards  and  wUte  finrmJiouses.  As  the 
early  sun  streamed  upon  the  most  i»ominent  of  these,  leaving 
the  others  in  deep  shade,  the  eflbot  waa  strangely  novel  and 
imposing. 

^   My  day-dreams  were  di^wlled  by  the  return  of  the  boat, 
whidi  brou^t  my  husband  and  the  obtain  from  the  island. 

"No  bread,"  said  the  latter,  shaking  his  head;  '*yoa  must 
be  ocmtent  to  starve  a  little  Imiger.  Proviri<n^p  not  in  till 
fbur  o'clock.**  My  husband  smiled  at  the  look  <^  blank  di»> 
appointment  with  whidi  I  received  these  unwelcome  tidings, 
"Never  mind,  I  have  news  which  wfll  comfort  yoo.  lite 
officer  who  commands  the  stati<»i  sent  a  note  to  me  by  an 


■■«« 


'■■>J 

i 


8 


MOWEINO  IT  Of  THM  MUsB. 


m 


orderly,  inTiting  us  to  spend  the  afternoon  with  bin.     Hs 
promises  to  show  us  every  thing  worthy  of  notice  on  the 

island.    CSaptain claims  acquaintance  with  me ;  but  I 

have  not  the  least  recollection  of  him.    Would  you  like  to 

gor 

"Oh,  by  all  means.  I  long  to  see  the  lovely  island,  h 
looks  a  perfect  paradise  at  this  distance." 

Hie  rou(^  sailor-captain  screwed  his  mouth  on  one  side, 
and  gave  me  one  of  his  oomioal  looks,  but  he  said  nothing 
until  he  assisted  in  placing  me  and  the  baby  in  the  boat 

"  Don't  be  too  sanguine,  Mrs.  Moodie ;  many  tUngs  look 
well  at  a  distance  which  are  bad  enough  when  near.** 

It  was  four  o'clock  when  we  Unded  on  the  rooks,  which 
the  rays  of  an  intensely  scorching  sun  had  rendered  so  hot 
that  I  could  scarcely  place  my  foot  upon  them.  How  the 
peofde  without  shoes  bore  it,  I  cannot  imagine.  Never  shall 
I  foiget  the  extraordinary  spectacle  that  met  our  sight  die 
moment  we  passed  the  low-  range  of  bushes  which  formed  a 
screen  in  front  of  the  river.  A  crowd  of  many  hundred  Irish 
emigrants  had  been  landed  during  the  present  and  former 
day ;  and  all  this  moUey  crew— men,  women,  and  children, 
who  were  not  wmfined  by  sickness  to  the  sheds  (which  greatly 
resembled  cattl»pena)— were  employed  in  washing  clothes, 
or  spreading  them  out  on  the  rocks  and  bushes  to  dry.  Hie 
men  and  boys  were  in  the  water,  while  the  women,  with  their 
scanty  garments  tucked  above  their  knees,  were  tramplii^ 
their  bedding  in  tubs,  or  in  holes  fat  the  rocks,  wUoh  the  reu 
tiring  tide  had  left  half  ftiU  of  water.  Those  who  did  not 
possess  washing-tubs,  pails,  or  iron  pots^  or  could  not  obtafai 
access  to  a  hole  ui  the  rodts,  were  runnmg  to  and  fro,  soream- 
big  and  scolding  ui  no  measured  terms.  The  oonAision  of 
Babel  was  among  them.  All  talkers  and  no  hearers— each 
shouting  and  yellu^  in  ius  or  her  uncouth  dialect,  and  all  ao 


ith  hin.  H« 
notioe  on  th« 
li  me;  but  I 
1  jrou  like  to 

9ly  island.    It 

I  on  one  mde, 
)  Mud  nothing 
the  boat 
ly  tUngs  look 
lear." 

)  rocks,  which 

adered  so  hot 

m.    How  the 

Never  shall 

our  sight  the 
hich  formed  a 
'  hundred  Irish 
It  and  former 
,  and  diildrai, 
(which  greatly 
luhing  dothea, 
I  to  dry.  The 
men,  with  their 
rere  trampling 
I,  wluch  the  re. 
e  who  did  not 
uld  not  obtain 
nd  fro,  scream' 
e  oonfuidon  of 

hearers — eaoh 
eot,and  ali  ao 


A  naiT  TO  oBoasM  isu.  • 

oampMiyiiW  their  Todferatfon.  with  violent  and  extraordinary 
-esturi  quite  incompr^ensible  to  the  uninitiated.  We  were 
literally  stumied  by  the  strife  of  tongues  I  shrank,  with  feet 
ings  almost  akin  to  fear,  from  the  harf-featured,  sun-bumt 
harpies,  as  they  elbowed  rudely  past  me. 

[have  heard  and  read  much  of  savages,  and  have  rinc« 
seen,  during  my  long  residence  in  the  bush,  somewhat  of  un 
dvflized  life;  but  the  Indian  is  one  of  Nature's  gentlemen- 
he  never  says  or  does  a  rude  or  vulgar  thing.    The  vicious, 
mieducated  baibariWMwho  form  the  surplus  of  ovcr-j^pulous 
European  countries,  are  far  behind  the  wad  man  in  deUcacy 
of  feeling  or  natural  courtesy.    The  people  who  covered  ttie 
yind  appeared  perfectly  destitute  of  shame,  or  even  of  a 
«Bffle  of  common  decency.    Many  were  almost  naked,  s^ 
more  but  p«ti«ny  clothed.    We  turned  in  disgust  from  Ae 
revolttog  scene,  but  were  unable  to  leave  the  spot  untd  the 
captain  had  satisfied  •  noisy  group  of  his  own  people,  who 
were  demanding  a  supply  of  stores. 

And  here  I  must  observe  that  our  passengers,  who  were 
dilefly  honest  Sootdi  labourers  and  mechanic,  from  the  vid^ 
ity  of  Edinburgh,  and  who  whUe  on  board  ship  had  conducted 
themselves  with  the  greatest  propriety,and  appeared  tfiemost 
quiet,  orderly  set  of  people  in  the  world,  no  ^er  set  foot 
Jpoh  the  island  than  they  became  infected  by  the  ««ne  qiirit 
oftembordtaation  and  ndnule.  and  were  just  a.  insolent  and 
nol«y«U»erest    WWle  our  captain  was  vainly  end^vomv 
to«  to  satlriV  the  unreawmable  demands  of  his  rebelMous  peo. 
ril  Hoodie  had  di«»Tered  a  woodland  prth  Ifcat  led  to  the 
UA  of  the  island.    Shd:ered  by  some  haxel-bushes  from  the 
intense  heat  of  the  sun, we  aat  down  by  the  oool,gushing 
river,  out  ofdght,  but,  alas!  not  out  of  hearing  of  the  noisy 
riotoiis  crowd.    The  rocky  banks  of  the  island  were  adorned 
with  beaatiM  evergreetts  whidi  sprang  up  spontaneously  m 


iv  ;i 


i/xy^m^^^^'tf'if^''' 


IHF 


■■  'i.i 


10 


Bouaenro  it  m  tju  Muaa, 


every  nook  mmL  orevioe.  I  renuuked  many  of  oar  fliTOurttc 
garden  ihrulM  anuaig  theae  wUdinga  of  nature.  Hie  fillagree, 
with  ita  narrow,  dark  gloaqr-green  learea ;  the  privet,  with  iti 
modest  white  bloeaoms  and  purple  berriea;  the  lignum-vitm, 
with  its  atrong  reainoua  odour ;  the  bumetfoae,  and  a  great 
varie^  of  elegant  unkaowna^ 

Here,  the  ahcnw  of  the  ialand  and  mainland,  receding  from 
eadt  other,  formed  a  naall  oove,  overhung  with  loffy  treea^ 
clothed  from  the  baae  to  the  aummit  with  wild  vinea,  that 
hung  in  gnuMflil  featoons  from  the  topmost  branchea  to  the 
water's  edge.  The  dark  shadows  of  the  mountains^  thrown 
upon  the  water,  aa  they  towered  to  the  height  of  some  thou* 
sand  feet  above  us,  gave  to  the  surfiwe  of  the  river  an  ebon 
hue.  The  sunbeams,  dandng  through  the  quick,  quivering 
foliage,  fell  in  stars  of  gold,  or  \gd^.  lines  of  daiding  bri^it 
ness,  upon  the  deep  black  waters,  ptiduoing  the  most  novel 
and  beautifbl  effects. 

We  wei«  new  joined  by  the  Mf|(eant,  who  very  Undly 
brought  us  his  capftd  of  ripe  plums  and  haieUmts,  the  growth 
of  the  ialand;  a  joyAd  present,  but  marred  by  a  note  from 

G^ttain ,  who  had  found  tiiat  he  had  been  mistaken  in 

his  supposed  knowledge  of  «%  and  politely  qmlogiied  ibr  not 
being  allowed  by  <jie  healtlKoffioers  to  receive  any  emigxant 
beyond  the  bounds  t;  pointed  tat  the  porfmrmance  dt  quaraa 
tine.  I  wia  deeply  dis^ppdnted,  but  my  fansbaad  laughingly 
told  me  tiiat  I  had  seen  enoi^  of  the  iaUmd ;  and  taming  to 
the  good-natured  soldier,  remarked,  that  **it  could  be  no 
easy  task  to  keep  such  wOd  savagea  in  order.** 

**  You  may  well  say  Ihat,  sir— but  our  ni^^t  seenea  tu 
exceed  those  of  tin  di^.  Yoa  would  tttfaik  they  were  inoar. 
nate  devils ;  ringing,  drinking,  dandng,  shouting,  and  cutting 
antica  that  would  surprise  tiie  leader  of  a  circaa.  They  have 
no  shame— are  under  no  luairainl    nobody  knows  them  her^ 


.    t„M,    tX^dlfiCm-' 


d  raiT  TO  0MO$BM  OLM. 


II 


of  our  ftTourita 
■e.  TIm  fOlagree, 
be  privet,  with  ite 

the  Ugnum-vitai, 
Mroae,  and  ft  great 

tnd,  receding  from 
;  with  lofty  treei^ 
h  wUd  Tinee,  that 
t  branehea  to  the 
Dioiintaiaa,  thrown 
^t  of  aome  thoii> 
the  river  an  ebon 
e  quick,  quivering 
of  daiding  bri(^ 
ng  the  moat  novel 

,  who  very  kindly 
Eel^nuta,tlw  growth 
ed  by  a  note  from 
1  been  miataken  in 
apolog^bed  for  not 
oeive  any  emigrant 
mnanoe  <^  quaraa 
hnabaod  lanf^iinc^y 
nd;  and  taming  to 
)  "it  oould  be  no 
ler." 

ur  n^t  aeenea  ftr 
ik  they  were  incar. 
outing,  and  catting 
drciu.  They  hove 
ly  knows  them  her^ 


iod  Uiey  tiiink  Uiey  can  apeak  and  act  aa  they  pleaae;  and 
they  are  each  Uiievea  diat  they  rob  one  anoUier  of  the  HtUe 
thejpoaaeia.  ThehealUiy  aotuaMynm  the  riakof  toking  tiie 
cholera  by  lobbtog  Uie  sick.  If  you  have  not  hired  one  or 
two  stout,  honest  fellowa  from  among  your  ftUow-paasengers 
to  guaid  your  dothes  while  they  are  drying,  you  will  never 
aee  half  of  tiiem  again.  They  are  »  aad  aet,  sir, »  Md  set 
We  could,  perhaps,  manage  the  men;  but  the  women,  slrl— 
the  women!    Oh,  sir!" 

Anxious  aa  we  were  to  return  to  the  aUp,  we  were  obliged 
to  remain  until  sundown  fa  our  retired  nook.     We  were 
hungry,  tired,  and  out  of  spirits ;  ti|D  mosquitoes  swarmed  fa 
myriads  around  us,  tormenting  the  poor  baby,  who,  not  at 
all  pleased  with  her  first  visit  to  die  new  world,  filled  tiie  air 
widi  criefv;  wfcen  dw  caption  came  to  tell  ua,  diat  die  boat 
waa  nady.    It  waa  a  welcome  sound.     Foroing  our  way 
once  more  dnough  die  stiU  squabbling  crowd,  we  gifaed  die 
kndh^-plaoe.    Here  we  encountered  a  boat,  just  landing  a 
ft«di  caigo  <rf  lively  savages  from  die  Emerald  Isle.    One 
fellow,  of  gigantic  proportions,  whose  long,  lettered  great«oat 
just  leached  below  die  nUddle  <^  Ua  bare  red  legs,  and,  like 
diari^,  hid  die  defects  of  Us  odier  garments,  or  perfaapa 
ooncsaled  his  want  of  diem,  leaped  upmi  die  rocks,  and  flour- 
idling  aloft  Us  shilelagh,  bounded  and  capered  Uke  »  wild 
goat  from  his  native  mountains.    <*WhurrahI  my  boys!"  he 
eried, "  Sure  well  all  be  jontiemen!** 

*'Pull  Awny, my  lade!"  exdiimed  our  captain, and  fa  a 
few  moments  we  were  agafa  on  board.  Thna  endad  my  first 
day's  eqwriflooe  of  die  land  of  aU  our  hopea. 


■  ■^. .'.'"  '••^■I'^g-^^'^^^'.'^. 


It 


§0V9Ea§  awm  Bvm, 


OHAPTBB  II. 


ON  Um  SM  of  flcptamber,  tiM  Miohor  WM  weigM,  and  w« 
bade  %  long  ft»«ir«ll  to  Gkmm  Ida.  As  oar  taMol  tiniek 
Into  mlddiuMl,  I  omI  •  but  UngwiDg  look  at  die  bMutUU 
riwrai  wo  traro  kAirlBg.  GndkdiqUioaniMortheSt  Uw 
nnoe,  «id  boaking  In  tiM  brig^  np  <^  the  morning  ran,  the 
Uend  and  tte  akier  gfoop  looked  like  %  aeoond  Eden  jnat 
emerged  ftom  the  wntefe  of  ehaoa.  Hm  daj  waa  warm,  and 
the  doodleaa  heatwia  of  that  peooliar  aaure  tint  which  givea 
to  the  Canadian  aUee  and  watera  a  brilllanqj  unknown  In 
more  northern  ladtudea.  Hie  air  waa  pore  and  elaatio,  the 
ami  ahone  out  with  nnoommon  splendour,  lighting  op  the 
filiMighig  wooda  with  a  rioh  mellow  colouring,  composed  cf  a 
Oowand  hrilHant  and  tWid  dyes.  Hie  mighty  river  ndled 
flaahbg  and  apiiklhtg  onward,  fanpelled  by  a  strong  breece, 
that  tipped  its  Aoit  rolling  surges  with  a  orestof  snowy  fbam. 

Nev«r  shalll  ftidget  that  short  voyage  fWim  Groase  Isle  to 
Quebeo.  I  love  to  recall,  after  the  IHpse  of  so  many  years, 
every  object  that  awoke  in  my  breast  emotkxia  of  astotaiidi- 
ment  and  dri^ht  What  wonderflil  combinatkms  of  beauty, 
and  grandeur,  and  power,  at  every  wfaiding  of  that  noMa 
river! 

Every  perception  of  my  ndnd  became  absorbed  into  the 
one  aenae  of  aedng,  when,  upon  rounding  Pdnt  Levi,  we  caat 
■nohor  before  Quebea    Whataaoeoet—X3Hi  tiie  world  }»» 


■.,>i^'i  :t'.:-^ 


QUMBtO 


It 


weighed,  and  w* 


•ttlie  beftutifU 
itortlMStLair 
moniing  ran,  the 
Eden  jwt 
WM  wann,  and 
tint  which  givea 
unknown  hi 
and  elaatio,  the 
lighting  op  the 
f,  oompoaed  of  a 
C^j  river  nJled 
*  Btnmg  breeae, 
itofraiowyfoain. 
m  Groaae  ble  to 
t  eo  many  yean, 
ioM  of  a8tohbb> 
itlons  of  beauty, 
f  of  that  noble 

worbed  foto  the 
int  Levi,  we  cast 
I  the  wwld  pro- 


AMewflh  another  1  Edbbiirgh  had  ba«i  tfM  A«m«  tdiaf  to 
me  of  all  that  waa  beautiful  hi  Nature — a  vUoa  of  the 
northern  Highlaada  had  haunted  my  dfeanu  aenm  the  At> 
lantio ;  but  all  theae  paat  recoUeotiona  fitded  before  the  present 
of  Quebeo.  Nature  haa  kiviahed  all  her  grandeat  elementR  t<> 
fi^rm  thia  aatonfahing  panorama.  There  frowna  the  cloud- 
capped  mountafai,  and  below,  the  oataraot  foama  and  thundera ; 
«ood,and  rock,  and  river  oombine  to  lend  their  aid  in  making 
Ae  picture  perfect,  and  worthy  of  ita  Divfaie  Originator. 

The  praoii^toua  bank  upon  which  the  city  Ilea  piled,  re>. 
fleeted  hi  the  atiU,  deep  watera  at  ita  baae,  greatly  enhanoea 
the  romantic  beauty  of  the  aituation.  The  mellow  and  aerene 
glow  of  the  autumiial  day  harmooiied  ao  perfectly  with  the' 
aolemn  gmndeur  of  the  acene  arpund  me,  and  aank  ao  ailently 
and  deeply  into  my  aoul,  that  my  tfitit  fell  proatrate  before 
it,  and  1  melted  involuntarily  into  teara. 

The  pleaaure  we  experienced  upon  our  firat  glance  at 
Quebec  waa  greatly  damped  by  the  aad  conviction  that  the 
eholera  raged  witUn  her  walla,  while  the  almoat  ceaaeleea 
toUii^  of  belle  proclaimed  a  moumfol  tale  of  woe  and  death. 
Scarcely  •  peraon  viaited  the  veaael  who  waa  not  in  bladt,  or 
who  apoke  not  in  tonee  of  aubdued  grieC  They  advised  ua 
not  to  go  on  ahore  if  we  valued  our  Uvea,  aa  atrangera  moat 
oommonly  fell  the  firat  victima  to  the  (hud  malady.  Thia 
waa  to  me  a  eevere  dia^>pointnient,  who  folt  an  intense  de- 
sire to  climb  to  the  crown  of  the  rook,  and  aurvey  the  noble 
landaoape  at  my  feet  I  yielded  at  laat  to  the  wiahes  of  my 
husband,  who  did  not  hiniself  resist  the  temptation  in  his  own 
person,  and  endeavoured  to  content  myaelf  with  the  meana 
of  enjoyment  pboed  witUn  my  reach.  My  eyee  were  nevei 
tired  of  wandering  over  the  acene  before  me. 

If  ia  curious  to  obaerve  how  differently  the  objecta  which 
man  f  >rth  faitenae  admiration  in  aome  minds  will  affect  othenk 


•4' 

I'       .- 


ii 


I 

i 


14 


leoffOBUnr  it  a  tbm  bvhb. 


i 


Thd^Sootob  dragoon,  Mackenzie,  wetng  me  \ock  long  and  i» 
tently  at  the  diatant  Falls  of  Montmoreney,  dryljr  obaciiTed, 
'^It  may  be  a'  vers  fine;  but  it  looks  na'  better  to  my 
thinken  than  hanks  o'  white  iroo'  hung  out  o'er  the  buahes." 

*<  Weelf"  cried  another,  **  thae  fo's  are  just  bonnie;  'tis  a 

onw  land,  nae  doubt ;  but  no*  just  so  bnw  as  auld  Soodand." 

"  Hout,  nw*  t  haidd  your  davers,  we  shall  a*  be  lairds 

here,"  said  a  third ;  "  and  ye  maun  wait  a  mucUe  time  befiHre 

they  wad  dunk  aucht  of  you  at  hame." 

I  was  not  a  little  amused  at  the  extravagant  expeotatkna 
entertained  by  some  of  oar  steerage  passengers.    The  right 
of  the  Canadian  shores  had  changed  them  into  persons  <^ 
great  consequence.    The  poorest  and  the  worst-dressed,  the 
leasbdeserving  and  tlw  most  repulsiTe  in  mind  and  morida, 
eihibited  most  disgusting  traits  of  seltimportanoe.    Vanity 
and  presumption  seemed  to  possess  them  altogether.    Tliey 
talked  loudly  of  the  rank  and  wealth  of  their  conneoticms  at 
home,  and  lamented  the  great  sacrifices  they  had  made  in 
order  to  join  brothers  and  cousins  who  had  foolisUy  settied 
in  this  b^gurly  wooden  country.    GHrls,  who  were  scarody 
able  to  wash  a  floor  decmtiy,  talked  of  service  with  contempt, 
mdesa  tempted  to  change  their  resolution  by  the  offer  of 
twelve  dollan  •  month.    To  endeavour  to  undeceive  them 
was  a  uselesa  and  ungracious  task.    After  having  tried  it  with 
several  without  success,  I  left  it  to  time  and  bitter  ezperioice 
to  restore  them  to  their  sober  sensea.    In  spite  of  the  ramon- 
•trances  of  the  captain,  and  the  dread  cS  the  cholera,  they  all 
rushed  on  shore  to  inspdct  the  land  of  Goshen,  and  to  en> 
deavour  to  realize  their  absurd  anticipations. 

We  were  fiivoured,  a  few  minutes  after  our  arrival,  with 
another  visit  firom  the  health-oflicen ;  but  in  this  instance  both 
Hm  gentiemen  were  Canadians.  Grave,  melandioly-lo(dtini( 
man,  ▼  ho  talked  mudi  and  ominously  of  the  prevailing  di» 


f- 


x>k  long  Mid  b> 
Iryly  obatirTed, 
i' better  to  my 
sr  the  buahes." 
•tbonnie;  'tis* 
iMildSootland.'* 
^  a*  be  lairds 
loUe  time  befiwe 

;ant  expeoti^ocM 
gere.    Tbe  right 

into  persona  of 
rorst^reased,  the 
lind  md  morale^ 
ortanoe.  Vanity 
Itogetber.  Diey 
ir  oonnectimis  at 
ley  had  made  in 
I  foolishly  settled 
ho  were  scarcely 
ce  wiUi  o(mtempt, 

by  the  offer  of 
>  undeceive  them 
iTing  tried  it  triUi 
bitter  experience 
Hte  of  the  remon> 
B  diolera,  they  all 
roshen,  and  to  en* 

our  arrival,  vltb 
this  instance  both 
idandholy-loc^nit 
Jie  prevailing^ 


qUSBBO. 

Older,  and  the  impi4Mibility  of  strangers  escaping  from  its 
fearfiil  ravages.  His  was  not  very  ocmsding,  and  served  to 
depress  the  cheerful  tone  of  mind  which,  after  all,  is  one  of 
the  best  antidotes  against  this  awftd  scourge.  The  cabin 
seemed  to  lif^ten,  and  the  ur  to  circulate  more  freely,  after 
the  departure  of  these  professional  ravens.  The  captain,  as 
if  by  instinct,  took  an  additional  glass  of  grog,  to  shake  off  tlw 
sqmlohral  gloom  their  oresmee  had  inspired. 

The  visit  of  the  doctors  was  followed  by  tliat  of  two  of  the 
oiiiclals  of  the  Customs ;— vulgar,  flliterate  men,  who,  seating 
themselves  at  the  cabin  table,  with  a  ftmiliar  nod  to  die 
captain,  and  a  blank  stare  at  us,  oomcenoed  the  following 
dialogue! — 

CustomJiouse  offioor  («^  making  infmnt$  om  to  At 
general  cargo  of  tht  vntel)  •.—'•Any  good  brandy  oil  board, 
oaptainf 

Captain  (yrw^y):  "Yes." 

Oflioer :  "Best  remedy  for  the  dwler*  kiiowli.  llie  only 
one  the  doctors  can  depend  upon." 

CbpUin  {taking  the  hint) :  <*  Gentlemen,  Fll  send  yon  tip  • 
dosen  bottles  this  afternoon." 

Oflioer ;  ••  Oh,  thank  you.  We  are  sure  to  get  it  jwmnm 
from  you.    Any  Edinbui^  ale  in  your  freight  T 

Oiptain  {trith  a  alight  tkrug) :  «•  A  ftw  hundreds  in  casw. 
ni  send  you  a  dosen  with  the  brandy." 

Both:  "Capital r 

First  oflioer :  "  Any  short,  large-bowled,  Scotdi  pip«8,  ^dl 
metallic  lidat" 

Captain  {quita  tmpaAm/fy) :  "Tea,  yes;  ITl  send  ywi 
aotne  to  smoke,  with  the  brandy.— What  else  V* 

Oflioer :  "  We  will  now  proceed  to  business." 

My  readers  would  have  laughed,  as  I  did,  could  they  ImH 
■eea  how  doggedly  the  old  man  shook  his  fist  after  Uiase  wdf 


''a 


16 


RcuQBaQ  n  a  tbm  huss. 


thiw M  Uiey  kft  tlM  ▼«»!.  ••SeoaB^el«r  be  nmtterad  to 
bimMlf ,  and  thao  tuning  to  in«,  **The7  rob  tw  in  Utia  bare- 
fiboad  nuonar,  and  ▼•  dara  ^Kl^  radal  or  ooo^lain,  iyt  fear  of 
Uw  trouble  tbay  «an  put  «a  to.  If  I  bad  tboae  villaina  at  tea, 
Pd  give  tjbem  %  tMt*  of  brandy  and  ale  tbat  they  would  not 
leliah." 

Towafda  xi^  meat  fX  the  atiBeniee  paaMngera  returned, 
greatly  diaaatitfiad  with  their  firat  Tiait  to  the  oity,  which  they 
declared  to  ha  a  filthy  hole,  thafc  loohed  a  great  deal  better 
ftomtbeahip'aaidethanitdidondiore.  ▲  dark  and  atarleaa 
night  dowd  fa^  Moonpanied  by  oold  whide  and  dnaling  rain. 
We  aeemed  to  have  made  a  audden  lei^  flom  the  torrid  to 
the  frigid  aone.  Two  boura  before,  my  Ught  aummer  dotUng 
waa  almoat  i^eupfiortable,  and  nonr  a  heavy  and  well-lhied 
pliid  feraaed  bi4t  ta  fataulMMt  «mw  from  th*  indemeooy 
of  the  weathfflr.  After  watdihig  for  aome  time  the  abiguUff 
effect  produced  by  the  lif^ta  fat  the  town  reflected  hi  the 
wat«r»  pnd  weary  with  #  l<)i«  ^7  ^  antkipation  and  e»dte- 
ment,  I  made  up  my  mfaid  to  Ie»v«  the  deck  and  retire  to 
teat  I  had  jUit  aettled  d(H»n  my  baby  in  her  berth,  when 
the  Teaed  ainidt,  with  a  audden  eraah  that  auit  a  ddver 
thKNif^  bar  wh<^  ftama,  Alanqed,  biH  not  aware  of  the 
real  danger  tlMt  hung  over  na,  I  groped  my  iray  to  the  eaUn, 
aii4  theooe  •aoandeirto  the  deck. 

Here  a  aoene  of  ooBfi«h»  pevafled  Uvitbaflka  deacrtptiea. 
By  aome  ttrange  ihtaU^,  die  BanUii  Sill  had  dianged  her 
poaition, and  ran  foul  of  na  fai  dw  4arit.  The  Anu waa  • 
email  brig,  and  bar  unludicy  neighbour  a  heavy,  tinte-maated 
veaad,  with tiiree  hundmd  Iridi  emigraBtaQ9 boeid;  and aa 
her  bowqnit  waa  directly  aoroaa  the  bowa  o^  the  Jnnt,  and 
abe  andmred,  and  unable  to  free  heradf  from  the  deadly 
embr•o^  there  waa  no  amaU  danger  of  the  poor  brig  gdng 
(dkxwB  inthe  unevwl  atragil^ 


r-' 


iSA-C;- 


■^%^^^  J:' '-!--, yvtj,  i/^^^i 


K 

'  lie  muttered  to 
>b  ue  in  this  bai-e- 
vpWa,  for  fear  of 
lee  villains  at  aea, 
tt  they  would  not 

■enfen  returned, 
» oUj,  whioh  they 
great  deal  better 
dark  and  atarleas 
ind  driading  rain, 
om  tbe  torrid  to 
i  summer  dotlung 
ry  and  well-lined 
a  tiw  inelemepoy 
Ijme  the  singular 
1  reflected  in  the 
[Nitkm  and  eadte* 
adt  and  retire  to 
I  her  berth,  when 
liat  smt  a  shiver 
not  aware  of  tbe 
iray  to  the  oabin, 

baflkadescriptioD. 
!  had  diaoged  her 
The  Anie  waa  • 
Mvy,  tlHfc»maited 
^  hoard;  and  as 
0^  the  Aniu,  and 
from  tbe  deadly 
at  jioar  brig  going 


QUMIMO 


vi 


Unable  to  oomprcliend  what  was  going  co,  I  raised  my 
head  above  the  companion  ladder,  just  at  the  oritieal  moment 
when  the  vessels  were  grappled  together.  Theahrielcs  of  the 
women,  the  9houtB  and  oaths  of  the  men,  and  the  barking  of 
the  dogs  in  either  ship,  aided  the  dense  darkness  of  the  night 
m  producing  a  most  awftd  and  stunning  effect  The  eqMain 
w«»  raging  Uke  a  chafed  bidl,  in  the  grasp  of  sevend  ftantio 
women,  who  were  dinging,  iMekiag,  to  Us  knees. 

WiA  great  ££Bcuky  I  persuaded  Ae  women  to  aeoonqpany 
me  below.  The  mate  hurried  «ff  with  the  cabin  light  upon 
the  deck,  and  we  were  left  fai  total  daikneaa  to  await  the 
rebult. 

WImo  tnmq^llity  waa  restored,  fct^^ed  both  fai  mind  and 
body,  I  iui^  into  a  profound  de^  and  did  not  awake  until 
the  Sim  had  risen  lu|^  kboVe  tlM  wlav»«ndrded  fortress  of 
Quebec.  The  ston*y  douds  bsl  all  Aspersed  during  the 
nigi*;  Hw  air  wM  dear  and  bahnyj  the  giant  hUls  were 
robed  hi  a  Uue,  soft  mist,  whidi  roUed  aroud  diem  in  fleecy 
volumes.  Asliiebeamsof  the  son  penetrated  their  shadowy 
folds,  they  gnduaUy  drew  up  Uke  fc  vortkin,  attd  dissolved 
like  wreadn  of  smoke  into  the  dear  air. 

During  tlie  day,  many  of  our  passengers  took  their  de> 
partnre;  tired  of  the  does  confiaement  e#  the  shqs  and  the 
long  voyage,  diey  were  too  impatient  to  ranain  on  board 
until  we  readied  Montreal,  llie  meohankis  obtained  faistant 
employment,  and  the  gfarls  iriio  were  oM  eimi^  to  work, 
procured  rituations  aa  servants  in  the  d^i  Before  night,  our 
numbers  were  {(reatly  reduced.  'On  old  4i«ag(Mn  and  his 
flunfly,  two  Scotch  fiddlers  of  the  titaae  of  Duncan,  a  High- 
lander called  Tsm  Grants  and  bis  wife  end  little  eon,  and  o«r 
own  party,  were  aH  diat  renuuned  cf  the  sevi»^4wo  paaaen- 
gen  that  left  the  Port  of  Ldth  fa  the  brig  .<lii*«. 

In  lyila  4»f  tlM  eaMNst  stttrealiea  afUi  rum  «Hfc»  tilt  aaM 


" '  \.'  ji  ujjni^ff 


It 


Mouotmro  it  a  tbm  buss. 


Thu  Orant,  who  wm  the  mo«t  merourid  fellow  in  the  worid, 
would  inaitt  upoa  going  on  ahore  to  aee  all  the  lions  cS  the 
pboe.  "Ah,  Tarn !  T«n  I  ye  will  die  o*  the  obolem,"  cried 
the  weeping  Maggie.  '*My  heart  will  brak  if  ye  dinna  bide 
wi'  me  an*  the  bairaie.**  Tarn  was  aa  deaf  as  Ailsa  Oaig 
B^gardleas  of  tears  and  entreaties,  he  jumped  into  the  boat, ' 
like  a  wilM  man  as  he  was,  and  my  husband  went  with  him. 
Fortunately  for  me,  the  latter  returned  safe  to  the  Tessel,  in 
time  to  proceed  with  her  to  Montreal,  in  tow  of  the  noble 
steamer  Brituh  Amniea  ;^1{ut  Tarn,  the  TolatOe  Tam,  was 
missing.  During  the  rdgn  of  die  cholera,  what  at  another 
time  would  have  appeared  but  a  trii&ng  incident,  was  now 
invested  with  doubt  and  terror.  The  distress  of  the  poor 
wife  knew  no  bounds.  I  think  I  see  her  now,  as  I  saw  her 
then,  sitting  upon  the  floor  of  the  dedt,  her  head  buried  be* 
tween  her  knees,  rooking  herself  to  and  fto^  and  weepbig  in 
the  utter  abandonment  of  her  grid^  **He  is  dead !  he  is 
dead !  My  dear,  dear  Tun  I  The  pestilence  has  sdaed 
upon  him;  and  I  and  tiie  pmr  baim  are  left  alone  in  the 
strange  landi"  All  attempt*  at  consolation  were  useless ; 
die  obstinately  reftned  to  listen  to  probabilities^  or  to  be 
corafinrted.  AU  through  the  ni|^  I  heard  her  deep  and 
bitter  sobs,  and-the  (rftrepeated  name  of  him  that  she  had 
lost 

The  sun  was  ainkfa^  over  the  pkgue-strioken  city,  gilding 
tiie  T*m"gfa^  woods  and  mountainpeaks  with  ruddy  lig^; 
the  river  mirrored  bade  the  gorgeous  sky,  and  moved  in  bil- 
lows of  liqdd  gdd ;  the  very  air  senmed  lighted  up  widi 
heavenly  fires^  and  sparkled  with  myriads  <^  luminous  pailk 
des,  as  I  gMnd  my  last  open  that  beiMitifiil  scene.  * 

IIm  tow-Una  was  now  attached  from  our  ship  to  die  BriHak 
Amtriea,  and  in  oompany  with  two  other  vessels,' we  fidlowed 
Aal  in  her  feamfaig  wake.    Day  lingered  on  the  horiaon  juM 


ma^ 


tdtiiluilillkMAi^U 


■  ■^^' ^'>>'. :  '-'^ 


>w  in  the  worid, 
the  lions  of  the 
obolem,**  cried 
if  ye  dinna  bide 
M  AUm  Cnig 
d  into  the  bo«t, 
i  went  with  him. 
to  the  Teasel,  in 
ow  of  the  noble 
klstile  Tun,  was 
what  at  another 
ioident,  was  now 
'ess  of  the  poor 
ow,  as  I  saw  her 
head  buried  be* 
S  and  weeping  in 
is  dead!  he  is 
lenoe  has  snied 
left  alone  fai  the 
n  were  nseless ; 
lOkias,  or  to  be 
fd  her  deep  and 
lim  that  she  had 

oken  city,  gilding 
ith  ruddy  li{^; 
nd  moTed  in  bil- 
I  lighted  up  with 
f  luminous  pavtf* 
Mstee.  * 

Up  to  the  BritM 
Mela,  we  fidlowed 
athahiNrixoD  just 


QUEMMO.  W 

long  eiKN#  to  enable  me  to  examfaie,  with  deep  interest,  the 
rocky  heights  of  Abraham,  the  scene  of  our  fanmwtal  Wdfe'a 
victory  and  death;  and  when  the  twiJ'^jht  &ded  into  night, 
the  moon  arose  in  sidemn  beauty,  and  cast  mysterious  gleam* 
upon  the  strange,  stem  landsoi^  THe  wide  river,  flowing 
rapidly  between  its  rugged  banks,  roHed  in  bky  blackness 
beneath  the  overshadowing  crags;  whQe  the  waves  in  mid- 
dunnel  flashed  along  in  dacding  lig^t,  rendered  more  intense 
by  the  surrounding  darkness.  In  thir  luminous  track  the 
huge  steamer  glided  majestically  forward,  flin^png  diawers  of 
red  earth4«ars  from  the  funnel  into  the  dear  air,  and  loiAing 
like  some  fiery  demon  of  the  night  Miveloped  in  smdce  and 

flame. 

The  \cAf  groves  of  pine  frowned  down  in  hear8e>Iike 
gloom  upon  the  mi^^  river,  and  the  deep  atOhiesa  of  liie 
ni^  broken  alone  by  its  hoarse  wdlings,  filled  my  mind 
with  sad  forebodings,— alas!  too  prophetic  of  the  flitoe. 

From  these  sad  reveries  I  ww  roused  by  <lie  hoarse  notes 
of  the  bagpipe.  That  welMmown  sound  Imugfat  every 
Sootdnnan  upon  ^edi,  and  set  every  hmb  in  moti<m  on  the 
decks  of  the  othw  vessels.  Determiird  not  to  be  outdone, 
our  fiddlers  took  itp  the  strain,  and  a  lively  contest  eitsued 
between  the  rival  musHans,  wMdi  continued  during  the 
greater  part  of  the  nighu  .The  shouts  jf  noisy  revelry  were 
in  no  way  congenial  to  ray  fedlugs.  Nothing  tends  so  mudi 
to  increase  our  mdandmly  as  meiry  music  when  the  heart  is 
sad ;  and  I  left  die  scene  with  eyes  bri.aftd  of  tears,  and  my 
mfaid  pdnftdly  agitatad  by  aorrowfiil  recdleotfons  w* 


MOUOHISQ  IT  IN  TBS  BUSB. 


OHAPTEB  III 


0 


00«   iOU»>BT    V9   TBB    OOOVTBI. 

|F  Moirtrwl  I  OMi  My  bat  littliB.  Tlw  oboleim  wm  at  iti 
k^gl^  and  tlw  ftw  of  ill|Mtiol^  whkih  iiMsre«Md  tho  nea^ 
we  ^>prQached  ito  Aanm^  oaat «  g^m  ov«r  the  anene,  and 
prevented  ua  from  exploring  its  infected  atreeta.  Tliat  the 
faeUngi  (tf  all  od  board  very  neaiiy  reaemUed  oiir  own  might 
Da  read  In  the  anxioaa  ftow  of  both  paaaengen  and  orew. 
Our  aqptafaiH  ^>^  ^b^  never  bafora  Untad  that  ha  tatertaioed 
any  apprahanrionB  on  the  aulyaot,  now  confided  tQ  ua  hia  eoa> 
viction  that  he  ahoidd  aavar  qidt  the  aity  alive:  "Thia  ouned 
oh(dei»]  Left  it  in  Buwja  .  and  it  on  my  return  to  Laith 
meeta  me  again  in  Ganada.    No  eaoiipe  the  third  time." 

Montreal  from  lH  river  weara  *  pleaaing  ai^eot,  but  it 
huska  the  grandeur,  tiie  atem  aublimi^  of  Quebec.  Ibe  fine 
mountain  that  forma  the  badcground  to  the  dty,  the  laland  of 
St  Helena  in  front,  and  the  junction  of  die  St  Lawrence  and 
the  Ottawa, — ^which  run  aide  by  dde,  their  raqtective  bound, 
ariea  only  marited  by  a  loi^  ripide  of  white  foam,  and  *ha 
darker  blue  tint  <^  the  former  river,  conatitute  the  moat 
ramarluble  featurea  in  the  landaeafe.  Ihe  tQwn  itaelf  wai^ 
at  that  period,  dirty  and  ill-paved ;  and  the  opening  <iS  all 
the  aewera^  in  order  to  purify,  the  place  and  8t(^  the  ravagea 
of  the  peadleooe,  rendered  the  puUio  llioroughfiuree  almoat 
impaaaable,  and  loaded  the  ab  with  intolerable  effluvia,  mora 
likely  to  {noduoe  than  atay  the  courae  of  the  plague,  the 


|pj-'-'''j(''V' 


rsi. 

olerm  was  at  iti 
madtheneanr 

the  anme,Mid 
eetik    Tint  the 

CHir  own  might 
gen  aod  orew. 
t  he  (jotertaiaed 
Bd  to  lie  hk  oon> 
b:  "TUaenned 
etumtoLeitk— 
lurd  time." 
Bg  aqpeot,  but  it 
iiebeo.  The  fine 
ity,  the  laland  ol 
ft  Lawrenoe  and 
eqMotiTe  bound* 
»  foam,  and  *he 
rtitute  the  moK 
tQwnitiidfwii^ 
B  opening  of  all 
•t(^  the  ravagea 
tughiuree  almoet 
)le  effluTia,  more 
the  plague,  the 


ouM  jotnunr  vp  rat  cotnmtr.  tt 

▼blenoe  of  whidi  had,  In  all  probabQitj,  been  iooreased  by 
theae  long-o^leeted  reoeptadea  of  unoleanlineaa.  Tbe  diamal 
■toriea  told  us  by  the  etdaeoflioer  who  oame  to  inipeot  the 
unloading  of  die  veaael,  of  the  fr^fatAd  ravages  of  the  ebolera, 
by  no  means  increased  our  desire  to  go  on  ahor«. 

'*It  will  be  a  mh«eto  If  yoa  esoape,**  he  said.  "  Hundreds 
of  emignuits  die  daily ;  and  if  Stejdien  Ayres  had  not  provi* 
dentially  oome  among  us,  not  a  soiil  would  hate  been  alive  at 
tUs  moment  in  Montreal." 

•^And  who  Is  Stephen  Aynsf  said  L 

**  God  only  knows,"  was  the  grave  reply.  <*  There  was  a 
man  smt  from  heaven,  aod  Ua  name  waa  John." 

**  But  I  thought  this  man  was  called  Stephen  T 

«  Ay,  so  he  caUs  hbnself ;  but  lb  ontain  tfiat  he  Is  not  of 
the  earth.  Flesh  and  blood  could  never  do  wtet  he  has  done, 
•—the  hand  ot  Ood  is  in  It  Besides,  no  one  know*  who  he 
is,  or  whence  he  eomes.  WhM  the  cfolera  iraa  at  fhe  worst, 
and  the  hearts  of  idl  men  Mood  adllwftti  ftstf,  ind  oitt>d<Mlort 
could  do  noMdt^  to  atc^  lis  pMgr«ai^  4ds  iiiia,  dr  aagel,  ot 
sidnt,  suddoily  made  his  appearance  In  our  strsets.  Heefemo 
b  great  bumlUQr,  Mated  in  an  ox««fl,  mA  dMwn  by  e«o  lean 
oien  and  a  wpe  Ittmess.  Odly  ddnk  ^ Mm !  Such*  ittas 
fai  an  oM  oA-Mtri;  dfKwn  by  Hip$  kutnm^  IThe  thtag  ilMV 
wasamimde.  ll«  made  no  pairade  about  whtt  he  eoidd  do^ 
but  only  fixed  up  a  plalh  paMeboard  tiofiOB,  Momltag  the 
public  that  he  powaweaifa  taftlUble  i«nedy  ibr  (•«  ittM«t% 
and  would  engage  to  cure  all  who  sent  for  hfao." 

"  And  was  he  sucoesifhl  r 

<*  Buooessfiil !    It  b6ata  ill  beU«f ;  atid  Ui  ttlnedy  io  ilm- 
pla!    For  some  days  we  alJi  took  Umlbr  a  quack,  and  would 
imfmhUk  JnMtA atall,t>lthei^  ha peribmad aomt  won. 
davM  citfBi  ^Mtt  pMt  jM(%irl»  eiMrid  1M  iflM 
the  doctor.    The  bdian  village  wU  INttdttd  hfibb  mtlmti, 


«94 


^■q;S'-  '".'.?f  r*p^'» 


•  :*  rc" .-  •  «r-. '  ■'SttVi«"-»-ss^»«v^wi' )  •  'i->5^-; 


*"«..i.fl.T-j;  ^sijriS'iiy.^'iwVT 


mjinm  I  .. 


'-^^■■^«'#y*^^pwii;;^fWjF'y"i'i'.^'-'  mm 


i 


PA- 


iH>V 


r 


Pv. 


M  Mommm  it  at  tbm  Mma, 

Mid  ha  went  out  to  thom,  aod  reatored  upwards  of  •  hnndred 
of  tin  Indiana  to  perfect  health.  They  took  the  old  lean  oxoi 
out  of  the  eart,  and  drew  him  back  to  Montreal  in  triumphi 
lUs  'atablfahad  him  at  oooe,  and  in  a  few  da/a'  time  he  made 
a  fortune.  The  very  dootora  aent  for  him  to  oure  them ;  and 
it  ia  to  be  hoped  that  in  a  few  days  he  will  banidi  the  cholera 
fWmi  the  oity." 

**  Do  you  know  hia  fiunous  remedy  f 

**  Do  I  not  t— Did  he  not  cure  me  when  I  waa  at  the  hut 
gaqpl  Why,  he  makee  no  secret  of  it  It  ia  all  drawn  from 
the  mapl»tree.  Ilrat  he  rube  the  patient  all  over  with  an 
obtment,  made  of  hog*s  lard  and  m^le^ugar  and  ashea,  from 
the  maple4>ee ;  and  he  gives  him  a  hot  draught  of  mafde- 
sugar  and  ley,  whidi  throws  him  into  a  violent  perspiration. 
In  about  an  hour  tfie  cramps  subside ;  he  fells  faito  a  quiet 
sle^  and  when  he  awakea  he  ie  perfectly  restored  to  health." 
Such  were  our  first  tiding  of  Stephen  Ayres,  the  cholera 
doctor,  who  is  universally  believed  to  have  efieoted  some 
wonderfol  ouran  II«  obtained  a  wide  celebrity  tfarca^wut 
the  oolony.* 

,  The  day  of  our  arrival  In  the  pmi  of  Montreal  was  spent 
in  paeUng  and  prepaihHi  for  our  kog  journey  up  the  country. 
At  innsst,  I  weak  upon  deck  to  etyoy  the  reftedihig  breese 
jdMt  aw^  flwQ  tJls  liver.  Hie  e^nfa^  waa  delii^itfld ;  the 
wUtm  tants  of  the  soldiers  on  the  Uand  of  St  Helms  i^terer] 
hi  d»  beaaoa  of  the  swn,  and  the  bu^Msall,  wafted  over  the 
waters,  sounded  so  cheery  and  inspiring,  tluit  it  hanishwd  all 
fears  of  the  dlde^^  and,  with  fear,  the  heavy  ^07m  that  had 
clouded  my  mind  rinoe  we  left  Quebec;    I  could  once  more 

~  *  A  fHmd  ofinhw,  In  thia  town,  hM  an  original  portnit  oftUi  notablf 
•mpiri«>.4bla  auto  aaat  fh<ai  baavaB.   Tka  Ihaa  la  i 
kaa  n^aao,  daa%niBr  aipwaajow,  aaJ  in.ei«k*ei<y  I 
tna  Ma  oofliflaiiM  amt.l 


rttatofaai 


I'WirMiHiii  I ' 


of  •  hundred 

IUm  old  leu  aun 

itreal  in  triumfdi. 

|kjra'  time  he  made 

cure  them;  and 

theobolera 


IwM  at  the  last 

ia  all  drawn  from 

all  over  with  an 

ar  and  athea,  from 

InMight  of  ma|de> 

olent  per^iration. 

»  fitUa  bto  a  quiet 

satorad  to  health." 

Lyraa,  the  diolera 

Bve  eflboted  aome 

ilebrity  thrcoghout 

Montreal  waa  qient 
ley  up  the  country, 
reftediing  breeae 
raa  delii^itfld;  the 
ItHeUna^ttered 
U,  wafted  over  the 
hat  it  banidied  all 
fy  glo^m  that  had 
1  oould  once  more 

pertrrft  of  this  notablt 
nUMTl 


OUR  jouMiar  up  the  oouotrt.  91 

kold  aweet  ooaverae  with  nature,  and  enjoy  the  aoft  tovelinea* 
of  the  ridi  and  hannonioua  aoene. 

h  the  morning  we  were  oUiged  to  vialt  the  city  to  make 
the  neceaaary  arrangementa  for  our  upward  journey.  The 
day  waa  intenaely  hot  A  banli  of  tfaundeivdouda  lowered 
heavily  above  the  mountain,  and  dw  doae,  duity  atreetoware 
dlent,  and  nearly  deeerted.  Here  and  there  might  ha  aean  • 
poup  of  anxioua.lo(Aing,  care-worn,  Mdy  emigrate,  aeated 
agafaMt  a  wall  among  thdr  paclu^{aa,  and  aadly  ruminating 
upon  their  fliture  proqpeota. 

Hw  aullen  t(dl  of  the  death.hell,  the  ezpoaure  of  ready-inade 
coffina  hi  the  undertaken^  windows,  and  the  oft^eourring 
notice  placarded  on  the  walla,  of  ftuwrala  fiimiahed  at  audi 
and  anoh  a  {dace,  at  ohe^ieat  rate  and  aborteat  notice,  pafav 
Ailly  reminded  ua,  at  every  turning  of  the  atreet,  that  death 
waa  every  where  perhapa  lurking  in  our  very  path ;  we  folt 
no  deaire  to  eiambie  the  beautiee  of  the  phuse.  With  tUa 
ominona  feeling  pervading  our  minds,  public  buildingi  poa. 
aesMd  few  attractions,  and  we  determined  to  make  our  stay 
aa  diort  aa  possible.  Gompared  with  the  infected  city^  our 
ship  a^ieared  an  ark  of  safety,  andwe  returned  to  it  with  joy 
and  confidence,  too  soon  to  be  desttoyedi  We  had  aeareely 
r»«nterad  our  cabin,  when  tidinga  were  broi^  to  ua  that  the 
cholerB  had  made  ita  i^ipearBiice :  a  Imidier  dt  the  captain 
had  been  aitaeked. 

It  WIS  adviaaUe  tiuik  we  should  leave  the  vessel  imni» 
diaftely,  before  the  intdUgenoe  could  readi  the  health^flScers. 
A,  few  minutes  sufficed  to  make  the  necessary  preparations; 
Mid  in  less  tfun  halfaoJiour  we  found  oursdvea  oeeupjpii^ 
oomfortable  i^wrtmente  in  Goodenoug^'a  hotel,  and  our  paa> 
aage  taken  in  the  stage  for  the  following  monfii^. 

The  trauitkm  waa  like  a  dream.  The  diaage  from  ^ 
«loaay  lank  drip^t?  l•lg^  airy,  wtiMbmidnd  reoma  and  eleat. 


■^    , 


■^ 


•T^^ 


r^s^- **«? 


il 


u 


M0V9Mnn  It  IN  TttM  BV8H. 


m 


I 


WM  *  lomy  w«  ■honld  hsv*  a^joysd  had  aot  d* 
draad  of  tlie  ehoUm  faiTolTad  dl  tUagi  ammd  m  in  i^oom 
■id  apimhsiMloB.  Nooneqpokaapon  tht  Mljeet;  and  jr«l 
}H  WM  «vid«nk  that  H  WM  apiMniMal  In  the  th(Nif^  of  di 
Sevenil  emigraDl*  kad  died  of  the  torribl*  JIiimi  darii«  Hm 
weak,  bcMath  tiM  Terjr  roof  that  ikeltored  w,  and  ita  nmige% 
weirera  told,  had  aalended  to  tbeeoontiy  aa  iar  aa  Kinga- 
ton;  ao  tfMt  it  iraa  atOl  to  be  the  phantom  of  our  ooming 
journey,  if  we  were  fortuaata  enoagh  to  eaeape  froan  ita  haad> 
quarteta. 

At  ri>  o^oloek  the  lUlowing  morning,  we  took  oar  |rfaoea 
h  tlie  ooaoh  for  Ladrine,  and  our  ftara  of  the  plague  greatly 
diminidied  aa  we  left  the  apfavs  of  Montreal  hi  the  diMaaoeu 
The  journey  from  Montreal  weatward  haa  been  ao  wall 
deaoribed  by  many  gifted  pena,  dMt  I  ahall  nay  littla  about  H. 
Hie  banka  of  the  St.  Lawreaoit  are  pietoreaqae  and  beantiital, 
partieularly  fai  thoae  apota-wheie  there  ie  a  good  riew  of  the 
Amerieaa  aide.  The  neat  tum-h^Yuaea  looked  to  me,  whoaa 
eyeif  had  been  ao  long  aeeuatomed  to  the  watery  waate,  homea 
of  beanty  and  h^>pineaa ;  and  the  q>kndid  orehardi^  the  treea 
at  that  aeaMMi  of  the  year  being  loaded  with  r^Mnhlg  Ihrit  of 
dl  hae%  Wave  refteaMng  and  ddiekma. 

My  partiaHty  ftnr  the  ai^to  waa  regarded  by  a  ADowi . 
MTdhwwithaapadeaof  honor.  "  l\B«ieh  tham  aot,  if  yoa 
vdua  your  life.**  Every  drauf^  of  fredi  a^  and  wMw 
inaplrad  ma  with  renewed  hadthandi|^lrila,  and  I  diHagddad 
the  waU-meant  advioe;  the  gentlaaai  who  gave  It  had  jail 
raoorered  from  the  terrible  diaMiaa.  Ha  waa  a  BBtddla^S^d 
nun,  a  frrnaer  from  the  Upper  Provinea,Oaaaifaw  bora  Ha 
had  visited  Modtred  on  bnrineaa  for  the  firat  tfane.  "  WeU, 
sir,"  he  sdd,  hi  nnawer  to  soma  qusaticna  put  to  him  by  n^ 
knsband  reapecting  the  diaaaaa,  "I  ain  tell  you  what  it  ia;  a 
mitten  with  the  ehdtea  alarea  dvfth  riil*  in  the  lata.'. 


i 


mtkk 


yta 


k-y^M 


M'l^fr'/'-*'-- i'f.''-''-s*'^ 


•d  iMdBoCtiM 

nd  OS  b  i^ooii 
ilgeet;  mid  7«l 
ihoa^  of  alL 
MMdnriiwtlN 
Hidit«nmiga% 
■  fcr  M  Kiiig» 
of  our  ooming 
e  ftom  ito  lM*d> 

took  our  |dMM 
I  plague  gtm&j 
in  the  dirtaooou 
I  bees  10  well 
y  Utile  about  H. 
le  and  beautiftd, 
poA  Tiew  of  tlM 
i  to  me,  whoee 
ir7inHle,koBMa 
clH»di,tlwtreea 
ripeoiDg  froit  of 

ed  b  J  •  MkMTi . 
liMm  me^Vjcm 
air  and  inm 
adldfar^ariea 
^nre  ft  iMd  JNI 
ae  a  Middle  1^ 
adianbora.  Ha 
t  time.  "Wen, 
ml  to  him  by  n^ 
jTdawhatitk;  a 
rid*  in  the  Ike.'. 


tfid  the  torment  he  b  aiiAtlag  ia  ao  great  that  he  would 
gladly  ^  to  get  rid  of  it.** 

"  You  were  fortunate,  C ,  to  eocape,"  mid  a  baokwoodi 

■ettler.who  occupied  the  opposite  leet;  "many  a  youngr 
man  haa  died  of  it." 

«*  Ay  i  but  1  believe  1  never  ahuuld  have  taken  it  had  it 
not  been  for  aome  things  they  g»  ve  ni«  fur  nupper  at  the  hotel ; 
oyatere,  they  called  them,  oyatera ;  they  were  alive !  I  waa 
oMa  permaded  by  a  friend  to  eat  them,  and  I  liked  thun 
well  enot^  at  the  time.  But  I  declare  to  you  that  I  felt  them 
crawling  over  one  another  in  my  stomach  all  nif^t.  The  neife 
morning  I  was  seixed  with  the  cholera." 

"Did  you  swallow  them  whole,  C T  said  Am  former 

^t''nf«^  who  seemed  hig^y  tkkled  about  the  evil  doinga 

of  the  oysters. 

•«To  be  sura.  I  tell  you,  the  creatures  wera  alive.  Yon 
put  them  on  your  tongue,  and  111  be  bound  you'll  be  glad  to 
let  them  slip  downaa  flwt  as  you  can." 

"No  wonder  you  had  the  cholera,**  sdd  the  backwoodsman, 
<*you  deserved  it  for  your  barbarity.  If  I  had  a  good  plate 
of  oysters  hare,  l*d  teadi  you  the  way  to  eat  them.** 

Our  jouniey  during  the  first  day  was  performed  partly  bf 
coach,  pwtly  by  steam.  It  was  nine  o*dock  in  the  evening 
when  we  landed  at  Cornwall,  and  took  coach  for  Presoott. 
The  country  through  which  we  passed  appeared  beautifol  in 
the  dear  light  of  the  moon ;  but  the  air  was  «dd,and  slightly 
sharpened  by  froet  This  seemed  strange  to  me  in  the  early 
part  at  September,  but  it  is  very  common  in  Canada.  Nine 
pMsengwa  wera  cUiaely  packed  into  our  narrow  vehide,  but 
the  aides  bdng  of  canvas,  and  the  open  space  allowed  tar 
windowa  unglaaed,  I  severed  with  cold,  whidi  amounted  to 
a  atato  of  sufiforing  when  the  day  broke,  and  we  H>proached 
th*l(ttl«vittif»afM*tiUbk.    kwaaioianiiiuHMiyTptedbar^l 

9 


-.  ■^„ .  •^liwwBSir^Kib™^'^ 


wc 


w  Bouoimro  rr  in  m  Bimft, 

hands  that  we  ■hould  stop  and  breakfiMt  at  a  nnall  inn  bj 
the  roadside,  and  warm  ouraelvea  before  proceeding  to 
PMwwtt 

The  people  in  the  tavern  were  not  atirring,  and  it  was  some 
time  before  an  old  white-headed  man  unclosed  the  door,  and 
showed  us  into  a  room,  redolent  with  flimes  of  tobacco,  and 
darkened  by  paper  blinds.  I  asked  him  if  he  would  allom 
me  to  take  my  infiuit  into  a  room  with  a  fire. 

"  1  guess  it  was  a  pretty  considerable  cold  night  for  the 
like  of  her,"  said  he.  "  Come,  I'll  show  you  to  the  kitchen ; 
there's  always  a  fire  there."  I  cheerfully  followed,  aocompa. 
nied  by  our  servant. 

Our  entrance  was  unexpected,  and  by  no  means  agreeable 
to  the  persons  we  found  there.  A  half-cloUied,  red-haired 
Irish  servant  was  upon  her  knees,  kindling  up  the  fire ;  and  a 
long,  thin  woman,  with  a  sharp  face,  and  an  eye  like  a  black 
snake,  was  just  emerging  from  a  bed  in  the  comer.  We  soon 
discovered  this  apparition  to  be  the  mistress  of  the  house. 

**The  people  cant  come  in  here !"  she  screamed  in  a  shrill 
v«rioe,  darting  daggers  at  the  poor  old  num. 

"  Sure  there's  a  baby,  and  the  two  women  critters  are  per- 
lahed  with  oold,"  pleaded  the  good  old  man. 

•*  What's  that  to  mel    They  have  no  boaineas  hi  my 

kitchen." 

"  Now,  Almira,  do  hold  on.  It's  the  coach  has  stopped  to 
braakfhst  with  us;  and  you  know  we  don't  <Aen  get  the 

chance." 

All  this  time  the  fair  Almira  was  dressing  as  fast  as  she 
oottld,  and  eyeing  her  unwelcome  female  guests,  as  we  stood 
diivering  over  the  fire. 

«  Breakflwt !"  she  muttered,  "  what  can  we  give  them  to 
•atl  Tliey  pass  our  door  a  thousand  times  without  any  one 
aU^tlng;  and  now,  when  we  ar*  out  of  9ftvrj  thing,  they  mu4 


OUR  JOnhSMT  UP  THE  OOUNTHT. 


}X  A  miMll  inn  bj 
prooa«diiy  to 

\,  md  it  WM  wm* 
the  door,  and 

of  tobM0O,MUl 

he  would  alloii 

old  night  for  tha 
>u  to  the  Ititchen ; 
llowed,  Moompft. 

means  agreeable 
othed,  red-haired 
p  the  fire ;  and  a 

oye  lilce  a  black 
lonier.     We  aoon 

of  the  houM. 
reamed  in  a  shrill 

0  critters  are  per> 

'  business  in  m  j 

ch  has  stopped  to 
n't  dlen  get  the 

ng  as  fiwt  asshe 
lests,  as  we  stood 

we  gire  them  to 

1  without  an/  ona 
r  thing,  they  must 


71 
How 


slop  and  order  breakfast  at  such  an  unseasonable  hour, 
manjr  m*  there  of  you  t"  turning  fiercely  to  me. 

**Nhie,**  1  answered,  laconically,  continuing  tc  ohaAi  tha 
cold  hands  and  feet  of  the  child. 

**  Nine !  That  bit  of  beef  will  be  nothing  out  into  steaki 
lor  nine.    What's  to  be  done,  Joe  T  (to  the  old  man.) 

<«  "Eqgt  and  ham,  summat  of  that  dried  venison,  and  pumpkin 
pie,"  responded  the  aidt-dt-campy  thoughtftilly.  "  I  don't  Iumiw 
of  any  other  fixings." 

**  Bestir  yourself,  then,  and  lay  out  the  table,  for  the  coach 
can't  stay  long,"  cried  the  virago,  seising  a  flying-pan  ftx>m 
the  wall,  and  preparing  it  for  the  reception  of  the  eggs  and 
ham.  **  1  must  have  the  fire  to  myself.  People  can't  come 
crowding  here,  when  I  have  to  fix  breakfiwt  for  nine ;  parliou 
larly  when  there  is  a  good  room  elsewhere  provided  for  their 
accommodation."  I  took  the  hint,  and  retreated  to  the  par 
lour,  where  I  found  the  rest  of  the  passengers  walking  to  and 
ft'o,  and  impatiently  awaiting  the  advent  of  the  breakfiMt 

To  do  Almira  justice,  she  prepared  fW>m  her  scanty  mai» 
rials  a  very  substantial  breakAst  in  an  incredibly  short  time, 
for  wUdi  she  charged  us  a  quarter  of  a  dollar  per  head. 

At  Presoott  we  embarked  onboard  a  fine  new  steamboat, 
William  IV.,  crowded  with  Iridi  emigrants,  proceeding  to 
Cobourg  and  Toronto. 

While  pacing  the  deck,  my  husband  was  greatly  struck  by 
the  appearance  of  a  middle-aged  man  and  his  wife,  who  sat 
apart  ftvm  the  rest,  and  seemed  struggling  with  intense  grief, 
wUch,  in  spite  of  all  their  efforts  at  concealment,  was  strongly 
Impressed  upon  their  features.  Some  time  after,  I  fell  into 
conversation  with  the  woman,  firom  whom  I  learned  their 
little  Vstory.  The  husband  was  fiiotor  to  a  Scotch  gentle- 
man, of  large  landed  property,  who  had  employed  hfan  lo 
visit  Oanada,  and  reonrt  the  oi^bilitifle  of  the  country,  prior 


,^ 


R0UQBm&  IT  IN  rat  buss. 


-*\- 


tpbUinvestingalaiigesuinof  money  in  wild  laod«.  Them 
penaes  of  their  voyage  had  been  paid,  and  every  thing  up  to 
that  looming  had  prospered  with  them.  They  had  been 
blesHed  with  a  apeedy  passage,  and  were  greatly  pleased  with 
the  country  and  the  people ;  but  of  what  avail  was  all  this  1 
Their  only  son,  a  fine  lad  of  fourteen,  had  died  that  day  of  the 
diolera,  and  all  their  hopes  of  the  future  were  buried  in  his 
grave.  For  his  sake  they  had  sought  a  home  in  this  far  land ; 
and  here,  at  the  very  onset  of  their  new  career,  the  fell  dis- 
ease bad  taken  him  from  them  for  ever, — here,  where,  in 
such  a  crowd,  the  poor  heart-broken  mother  could  not  even 
indulge  her  natural  grief ! 

"  Ah,  for  a  place  where  I  might  greet !"  she  said ;  "  it  would 
relieve  the  burning  weight  at  my  heart.  But  with  sae  many 
strange  eyes  glowering  upon  me,  I  tak'  shame  to  mysel'  to 
greet" 

**  Ah,  Jeannie,  my  puir  woman,"  said  the  husband,  grasp> 
ing  her  hand,  "  ye  maun  bear  up ;  'tis  God's  will ;  an  sinfii' 
creatures  like  us.mauna  repine.  But  oh,  madam,"  tiuming  to 
me,  "  we  have  aair  hearts  the  day !" 

At  Brockville  we  took  in  a  party  of  ladies,  which  some* 
what  relieved  the  monotony  of  the  cabin,  and  I  was  amused 
by  listening  to  their  lively  prattle,  and  the  little  gossip  with 
which  they  strove  to  while  away  the  tedium  of  the  voyage. 
The  day  was  too  stormy  to  go  upon  deck, — thunder  and 
lightning,  accompanied  widi  torrents  of  rain.  Amid  the  con- 
fusion of  elements,  I  tried  to  get  a  peep  at  the  LAke  of  the 
Thousand  Isles;  but  the  driving  storm  blended  all  objects 
uito  one,  and  I  returned  wet  and  disappointed  to  my  berth. 
We  passed  Kingston  at  midnight,  and  lost  all  our  lady  pas* 
sengers  but  two.  The  gale  continued  until  daybreak,  and 
noise  and  confusion  prevailed  all  night,  which  was,  greatly  in> 
ereiwed  by  the  uproarioua  conduct  of  a  wild  Irish  eougran^ 


•M" 


OUM  JoOMSXr  UP  TEX  ooui/Txr. 


SB 


laod*.  Them 
ery  thing  up  to 
rbey  had  been 
tly  pleased  with 
il  was  all  this  1 
[that  day  of  the 
re  buried  iit  bis 
in  this  far  land ; 
eer,  the  fell  dis- 
here,  where,  in 
could  not  even 

said;  "it would 
I;  with  sae  many 
le  to  mysel'  to 

husband,  grasp> 
\  will ;  an  tinfii' 
lam,"  tiuniog  to 

ies,  which  some- 
d  I  was  amused 
ittle  gossip  with 
of  the  voyage. 
, — thunder  and 
Amid  the  con- 
the  LAke  of  the 
ided  all  objects 
id  to  my  berth. 
11  our  lady  pas- 
daybreak,  and 
I  was,  greatly  in* 
i  Irish  eougran^ 


who  «hought  fit  to  make  ha  bed  upon  the  mat  before  tha 
cabin  door.  He  sang,  he  shouted,  he  harangued  his  country- 
men on  the  political  state  of  the  Emerald  We,  In  a  stylo 
which  was  loud  if  not  eloquent.  Sleep  was  impossible,  whUst 
his  stentorian  lungs  continued  to  pour  forth  torrents  of  un- 
meaning sound. 

Our  Dutch  stewardess  was  highly  enraged.  His  con- 
duct, she  said,* wi»  perfectly  ondaoent."  She  opened  the 
door,  and  bestowing  upon  him  several  kicks,  bade  him  get 
away  •*  out  <«f  that,"  or  she  would  complain  to  the  captain. 

In  answer  to  tlus  remonstrance,  he  caught  her  by  the  foot, 
and  pulled  her  down.  Tlien  waving  the  tattered  remains  of 
his  straw  hat  in  the  air,  he  shouted  with  aft  air  of  triumph, 
••  Git  out  wid  you,  you  ould  witch  I  Shure  the  ladies,  the 
purty  daflinta,  never  sent  you  wid  that  •  ugly  message  to  Pat,* 
who  loves  them  so  hitirely  that  he  manes  to  k^pe  watch 
over  Umbo  through  the  blessed  night"  Then  mating  a  ludi- 
orousbow,  he  continued, «  Ladles,  I'm  at  your  sarvice :  I  only 
wish  I  could  get  a  dispensatitm  tnm  the  Pope,  end  I'd  marry 
yeas  all."  Tlie  stewardess  bolted  the  door,  and  tiie  med  fel- 
low kept  up  such  a  racket  that  we  aU  wi«lied  him  «t  the  bot- 
torn  of  the  Ontario. 

The  following  day  was  wet  and  f^oamj.  Thewofm  had 
protracted  the  l«igth  of  our  voyage  for  setewl  lo*%  aii  * 
WM  midnii^  when  we  Iftnded  aft  CotoMgi 


■J 


ABOUT  a  month  previous  to  our  emigration  to  Canada,  my 
husband  sud  to  me,  "You  need  not  expect  me  home 
to  dinner  U>day;  I  am  going  with  my  flriend  Wilson  to 

Y— —  to  hear  Mr.  C lecture  upon  emigration  to  Canada. 

He  has  just  returned  ft«m  the  North  American  provmces, 
and  his  lectures  are  attended  by  vast  numbers  of  persons  who 
are  anxious  to  obtaiii  iAfnnnati<m  on  the  subject    I  got  a  note 

from  your  friend  B this  morning,  begging  me  to  come 

over  and  listen  to  his  palaver ;  and  as  Wilson  thinks  of  emi- 
grating in  the  spring,  he  will  be  my  walking  companion." 

'<T<mi  Wilson  going  to  Canada!"  said  I,  as  the  door  dosed 
on  my  better4ial£  "  What  a  backwoodsman  be  will  make ! 
What  a  loss  to  th^  single  ladies  of  S— I  What  will  they 
do  without  him  at  their  balls  and  picnics  1" 

One  of  my  risters,  who  was  writing  at  a  table  near  me, 
was  highly  amused  at  this  unexpected  announcement  She 
fell  back  in  her  chair  and  indulged  in  a  long  and  hearty  laugh. 
I  am  certain  that  most  of  my  readers  would  have  joined  in 
her  laugh  had  they  known  the  object  which  provoked  her 
mirth.  "  Poor  Tom  is  such  a  dreamer,"  said  my  dster,  **  it 
would  be  an  act  of  charity  in  Moodie  to  persuade  him  from 


ibi 

t« 
!« 

bj 
m 

be 

th 

d« 

hi 


1 


-ii 


TOM  WILSOirS  XMiaXATIi  .y. 


SI 


MB  auiy  Mraag*  tm 

n  to  Cuiada,  my 
txpect  me  home 
Hend  Wileon  to 
ration  to  Canada. 
Biican  proTinoea, 
rsof  peraMuwho 
Bot.  I  got  a  note 
ing  me  to  oome 

0  thinks  of  emi- 
oompanion." 

18  the  door  dosed 

n  he  will  make ! 

WhatwiU  they 

\  table  near  me, 
Dunoement  She 
Hid  hearty  laugh. 

1  have  joined  in 
d)  provoked  her 
id  mydster,  **it 
wuade  him  from 


mdertaking  suuh  a  wild-goose  chase ;  cnaiy  that  1  fiui<^  m^ 
good  brother  is  possessed  with  the  same  mania." 

« Nay,  God  forbid l"  said  L    "I  hope  this  Mr. ,  with 

the  unpronounceable  name,  wiU  disgust  them  with  his  elo- 
quence ;  for  B  ■■  writes  me  word,  in  his  droll  way,  that  he 
is  a  coarse,  vulgar  fellow,  and  lacks  the  dignity  of  a  bear. 
Oh !  I  am  certain  they  will  return  quite  rickened  with  the 
fiBT^i^iiMi  project."  Tlnis  I  laid  the  flattering  unction  to  my 
soul,  little  dreaming  that  I  and  mine  tdiould  share  in  the 
strange  adventures  of  this  oddest  of  all  odd  creatures. 

It  might  be  made  a  subject  of  curious  inquiry  to  those  who 
delight  in  human  absurdities,  if  Hver  there  were  a  character 
drawn  in  works  of  fiction  so  extravagantly  ridiculous  as  some 
which  daily  experience  presents  to  our  view.  We  have  ea> 
countered  people  in  the  broad  thoroughfiures  of  life  more  ecooi- 
trio  than  ever  we  read  of  in  books ;  people  who,  if  all  their 
foolish  sayings  and  doings  were  duly  reoprded,  would  vie  with 
Ihe  drollest  creations  of  Hood,  or  George  Colman,  and  put  to 

>7.^e  the  flights  of  Baron  Munchausen.  Not  that  Tom  Wil- 
u  «nui  a  romancer;  oh,  no!  He  was  the  very  prose  of 
^i  ioe,  a  man  in  a  mist,  who  seemed  afraid  of  moving  about 
for  ftar  of  knocking  his  head  against  a  tree,  and  finding  a  hal* 
ter  suspended  to  ito  branches — a  man  as  helpless  and  as  indo- 
lent as  a  baby. 

Mr.  Thomas,  or  Tom  Wilson,  aa  ha  waa  fiuni^ly  called 
by  all  his  friends  and  acquaintances,  was  the  son  of  a  gentle 
man,  who  <»>oe  possessed  alaige  landed  proper^  in  the  noigb 
bouihood ;  but  ^u  extravagant  and  profligate  expenditure  of 
the  income  whiJi  he  derived  from  a  fine  estate  which  had 
descended  from  ihther  to  son  through  many  gmerations,  had 
greatly  reduced  the  circumstances  of  the  elder  Wilson.  dtiU,- 
\Sm  fiunily  held  a  certain  rank  and  standing  in  their  native 
wunty,  of  which  his  evil  oouraea,  bad  aa  theiy  were,  rould  not 


u 


■i 


y>. 


wholly  deprive  them.  The  young  people— and  a  veiy  hirgi 
fiunOy  they  made  of  sons  and  daugfaten,  twelve  ta  number- 
were  objects  of  interest  and  commiseration  to  all  who  knew 
them,  while  the  worthless  father  was  justly  held  fai  dontemiM 
and  detestation.  Our  hero  was  the  youngest  of  the  dx  sons } 
and  from  his  childhood  he  was  famous  for  his  nothing-to<loisb. 
nnss.  He  was  too  Indolent  to  engage  heart  and  soul  to  tiia 
manly  sports  of  his  comrades;  and  he  never  thou^^t  it  nece* 
sary  to  commence  learning  his  lessons  until  the  school  had 
been  in  an  hour.  As  he  grew  up  to  man's  estate,  he  might 
beaeen  dawdling  about  in  »  black  frock-coat,  jean  trowsers, 
and  wWte  kid  gloves,  making  lazy  bows  to  the  pretty  prls  of 
lua  acquaintance;  or  dressed  in  a  green  shooting-jacket,  with 
a  gun  acKws  his  shoulder,  sauntering  down  the  wooded  lanea, 
with  a  brown  spaniel  dodgmg  at  his  heela.  and  kwkmg  aa 
deqpy  and  indolent  as  his  master. 

Hie  slowness  of  all  Tom's  movements  was  strangely  con^ 
trasted  with  his  dight,  elegant,  and  sjmmetrical  figure;  that 
kwked  aa  if  it  only  awaited  the  will  of  the  owner  to  be  the 
most  active  j^eoe  of  human  machinery  that  ever  responded  to 
dieimpulaesofyouth  and  health.  But  then,  Ws  fcoe !  What 
pendl  oould  ftithfully  delineate  features  at  «ioe  so  comical 
■nd  lufubrioBs— features  diat  one  mommt  expressed  tba 
moat  solemn  seriousness,  and  the  next,  the  most  grotesque 
MidabMud  abandonment  to  mirth  1  In  him,  all  wttremea 
appeared  to  meet;  the  man  was  a  contradiction  to  himself. 
Tom  was  a  person  of  few  words,  and  so  int«>sely  laay  that  it 
raquired  a  strong  efibrt  of  will  to  enable  him  to  answer  the 
queationa  of  inquiring  friends;  md  whan  at  length  atousod  to 
eiaicise  lua  coUoquiiU  power^  be  porfbnned  the  task  in  so 
original  a  manner  that  it  itever  ftiled  toiipaat  tin  gravity  o# 
the  interrogator.  When  he  isised  Ma  larg^  prominent, 
leaieB-oolouied  eye^  ftrnn  Ute  ground,  and  looted  the  inqtdrer 


9U 


and  a  veij  hrgi 
Ive  in  number — 
to  all  vho  knew 
leld  in  tiontemiM 
l;of  thedxwnsj 
nothing4o<loisli> 
t  and  soul  in  tiia 
thouj^t  it  neces- 
11  the  school  had 
I  estate,  he  might 
at,  jean  trowsers, 
lie  pretty  prls  of 
oting-jaeket,  with 
he  wooded  lanes, 
L  and  looking  as 

ras  strangely  con- 
rical  figure;  that 
B  owner  to  be  the 
»Ter  responded  to 
,hisfttoe!  What 
;  mioe  so  comical 
at  expressed  the 
3  most  grotesque 
him,  all  octremes 
iction  to  himselC 
msely  lasy  that  it 
bim  to  answer  the 
length  arourod  to 
sd  ^  task  in  so 
•at  the  gravity  ol 
large,  prominent, 
kwtodtheinqttfrer 


TOM  wasoira  gMiQ»*TtoN.  * 

^ily  hi  the  fhoe,  the  efieot  was  irredstible;  the  laugh 
would  coroe,--do  your  beet  to  resist  It 

"Well,tl»f.ftamy!    Wtat  Mke.  y«u  1««*1    *«  "«  ' 
»Z»t    I  don't  ;<«d»  « it;  1  oft«.  U«gh  «  my-l' 
^  would  tav.  !«.  .  t««»" «»  "■  "»d.ruj.a-.    H. 

£l*Z.^";-««.dd-ro,  <h.«r«i.,  of  .«v. 

•"i,^t:t':i..««u.u.d.,»a,»«-i»>,»« 

loin  waanoi  ^  ^^  j^^^^^^^^ 

man  considered  nimseu  •"  otwavs  naced  the 

that  I  rather  inclined  to  this  opmion     He  «J*»y»  j^ 

^3^iiaillg».tty«.ploy.dta«i«<g;^tk««.   1 

8* 


^ 


t4  xouoHim  rr  is  the  musb. 

"What  was  thftt  you  saidT 

I  repeated  the  question;  and  he  answered,  with  <me  of  his 
bicredulous  sniQes, 

*'  Was  it  to  me  you  spoke  1  Oh,  I  am  quite  well,  or  1 
Miould  not  be  walking  here.  By  the  way,  did  you  see  my 
dogr 

"  How  should  I  know  your  dogV* 

"  They  say  he  resembles  me.  He's  a  queer  dog,  too ;  but 
I  never  could  find  out  the  likeness.    QooA  night !" 

This  was  at  noonday ;  but  Tom  had  a  habit  of  taking  light 
for  darkness,  and  darkness  for  light,  in  all  he  did  or  said. 
He  must  have  had  difierent  eyes  and  ears,  and  a  different  way 
of  seeing,  hearing,  and  comprehending,  than  is  possessed  by 
the  generality  of  his  q)ecies :  and  to  such  a  length  did  he 
carry  this  abstraction  of  soul  and  spose,  that  he  would  often 
leave  you  abruptiy  in  the  middle  of  a  sentence;  and  if  you 
chanced  to  meet  him  some  weeks  after,  he  would  resume  the 
conversation  with  the  very  word  at  which  he  had  cut  short 
the  thread  of  your  discourse.  A  lady  once  told  him  in  jest 
that  her  youngest  brother,  a  lad  of  twelve  years  old,  had 
called  his  donkey  Braham,  in  honour  of  the  great  ringer  of 
that  name.  Tom  made  no  answer,  but  started  abruptly  away. 
Dtfee  months  after,  she  happened  to  encounter  him  <»i  the 
same  spot,  when  he  accosted  her,  without  any  previous  salu* 
tation, 

"  You  were  telling  me  about  a  donkey.  Miss ,  • 

«.  ionkey  of  your  brother's — Braham,  I  think  you  called  Um— ' 
yes,  Braham ;  a  strange  name  for  an  ass !  I  wonder  what 
die  great  Mr.  Braham  would  say  to  that.    Ha,  ha,  ha !" 

"■  Your  memory  must  be  excellent,  Mr.  Wilson,  to  enable 
rou  to  remember  such  a  trifling  drcumstanoe  all  this  time." 

<*  IViffing,  do  you  call  itt  Why,  I  have  thought  of  notlung 
•lat  ever  since." 


I,  with  one  of  hb 

quite  well,  or  I 
did  you  see  my 


Ber  dog,  too ;  but 
ightr 

>it  of  taking  light 

he  did  or  aaid. 

d  a  difierent  waj 

is  posseaNd  by 

a  length  did  he 

It  he  would  often 

Bnoe;  and  if  you 

wovld  resume  the 

be  had  cut  abort 

told  him  m  jest 

e  years  old,  had 

le  great  mnger  of 

Bd  abruptly  away. 

nter  him  on  the 

ny  previous  salu* 

ey,  Miss ,  • 

you  called  Um— 
I  wonder  what 
la,  ha,  ha!" 
t^ilson,  to  enable 
e  all  this  time." 
Iiought  of  nothing 


TOM  WlLSOirs  MMtOBATIOX. 


S5 


r 

■  From  traits  such  as  these  my  readers  will  be  tempted  to 
B  imagine  him  brother  to  the  animal  wlio  had  dwelt  so  long 
I  in  his  thoughts ;  but  there  were  times  when  he  surmounted 
H  this  strange  absence  of  mind,  and  could  talk  and  act  as  sensi- 
H  bly  as  other  folks. 

H  On  the  death  of  his  father,  he  emigrated  to  New  South 

■  Wales,  where  he  contrived  to  doze  away  seven  years  of  his 
I  valueless  existence,  suffering  his  convict  servants  to  rob  h<m 
I  of  every  thing,  and  finally  to  bum  lus  dwellinfr     t  > .  returned 

■  to  his  native  village,  dnmed  as  an  Italian  me.,  .cant,  with  a 
monkey  perched  upon  his  shoulder,  and  playing  airs  of  his 
own  composition  upon  a  hurdy-gurdy.  In  this  disguise  he 
sought  the  dwelling  of  an  old  bachelor  unde,  and  solicited  his 
charity.  But  who  that  had  once  seen  our  friend  Tom  could 
ever  forget  him  1  Nature  had  no  counterpart  of  one  who  in 
mind  and  form  was  alike  original.  The  good-natured  old 
tioldier,  at  a  glance,  discovered  his  hopeful  nephew,  received 
him  into  his  house  with  kindness,  and  had  afforded  him  an 
asylum  ever  since.  Ono  little  anecdote  of  him  at  this  period 
will  illustrate  the  quiet  love  of  mischief  with  which  he  was 

imbued.    Travelling  from  W to  Lond<ni  in  a  stage- 

coach  (nulways  were  not  invented  in  those  days),  he  entered 
into  conversation  with  an  intelligent  fiurmer  who  sat  next  him ; 
New  South  Wales,  and  his  residence  in  that  colony,  forming 
the  leading  topic  A  dissenting  minister  who  happened  to  be 
his  vM^vM,  and  who  had  annoyed  him  by  making  several 
impertinent  remarks,  suddenly  asked  him,  with  a  sneer,  how 
many  years  he  had  been  there. 

**  Seven,"  returned  Tom,  in  a  solemn  tone,  without  deigning 
a  glance  at  his  companion. 

**  I  thought  so,"  responded  the  other,  thrusting  his  hands 
'nto  his  breeches  pockets.  "And  piagr,  sir,  what  were  yoa 
sent  there  for?" 


i 


:i 


:i 


S6 


MOU&HtNQ  tr  in  TOS  BUiHL 


••  Steding  pijp,"  returned  the  incorrigible  Tom,  with  the 
gr»vity  of  a  jud^    The  words  were  ecaroely  pronounced 
when  the  questioner  called  the  coachman  to  stop,  preferring 
a  ride  outside  in  the  rain  to  a  seat  within  with  a  thief.    Tom 
greatly  enjoyed  the  hoaK,  which  he  used  to  tell  with  the  mer- 
riest  of  all  grave  faces.  Besides  being  a  devoted  admirer  of  the 
fiur  sex,  and  always  imagining  himself  in  love  with  seme  un- 
attainable beauty,  he  had  a  passionate  craze  for  muric,  and 
played  upon  the  violin  and  flute  witii  considerable  taste  and 
execution.    The  sound  of  a  favourite  melody  operated  upon 
the    breathing  automaton   like  mapo,  his  frozen  ftculties 
experienced  a  sudden  thaw,  and  the  stream  of  life  leaped  and 
gambolled  for  a  while  with  uncontrollable  vivacity.    Ho 
laughed,  danced,  sang,  and  made  love  in  a  breath,  committing 
a  thousand  mad  vagaries  to  make  you  acquainted  with  his 

existence. 

My  husband  had  a  remaritably  sweet-toned  flute,  and  this 
flute  Tom  r^;arded  with  a  spedes  of  idolatry. 

"  I  break  the  Tenth  CommandmMit,  Moodie,  whenever  I 
hear  you  play  upon  that  flute.  Take  care  of  your  black 
wife,"  (a  name  he  had  bestowed  upon  the  coveted  treasure,) 
«*  or  I  shall  certainly  run  off  with  her." 

"I  am  half  afraid  of  you,  Tom.  1  am  sure  if  1  were  to 
die,  and  leave  you  my  black  wife  as  a  legacy,  you  would  be 
too  much  oveijoyed  to  lament  my  death." 

Such  was  the  strange,  helpless,  whimrical  being  who  now 
contemplated  an  emigration  to  Csnada.  How  he  succeeded 
in  the  speculation  the  sequel  will  show. 

It  was  late  in  liw  evening  before  my  husband  and  his 

friend  Tom  Wilson  returned  from  Y .    I  had  provided 

•  hot  supper  and  a  cup  of  coffee  after  their  long  walk,  and 
they  did  ample  justice  to  my  care.    Tom  was  in  unumaUy 


ble  Tom,  witb  Um 
troely  pronounced 
to  stop,  preferring 
rith  a  thief.    Tom 
tell  with  the  mer- 
oted  admirer  of  the 
love  with  srme  un- 
•ze  for  muric,  and 
riderable  taste  and 
ody  operated  upon 
lis  frozen  fiioulties 
n  of  life  leaped  and 
ible  vivacity.    Ho 
breath,  committing 
icquainted  with  his 

»ned  flute,  and  this 

^try. 

M oodie,  whenever  I 

care  of  your  blade 

>  coveted  treasure,) 

m  sure  if  I  were  to 
gacy,  you  would  be 

Hcal  being  who  now 
How  he  auooeeded 

ly  husband  and  his 
— .  I  had  provided 
their  long  walk,  and 
m  was  Id  ununially 


TOM  wiLsosns  nawATioir. 


m 


high  8pirit^  and  appeared  whoUy  bent  upoij^Ws  Canadian  e» 
[•i  iitiun. 

"  Mr.  C •  must  have  been  very  eloquent,  Mr.  Wilson, 

Haiil  1,  "  to  engage  your  attention  for  ao  many  hours." 

♦•  Perhaps  he  was,"  returned  Tom,  after  a  pause  of  some 
minutes,  during  which  he  seemed  to  be  groping  for  words  in 
tlie  saltcellar,  having  deliberately  turned  out  ito  contents  upon 
the  toblo^oth.  "  We  were  hungry  after  our  long  walk,  and 
lie  gave  us  an  eaoellent  dinner." 

"But  that  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  substance  of  Us 

letitore." 

*•  It  was  the  substance,  afl»r  all,"  sidd  Moodie,  laugUng; 
•*  and  his  audience  seemed  to  think  so,  by  the  attention  they 
paid  to  it  during  the  disousnon.  But,  come,  Wilson,  give  my 
wife  some  account  of  the  intellectual  part  of  the  entertain- 
ment" 

•♦What!  I— I— I— I  give  an  account  of  the  lecture?   Why, 

my  dear  fellow,  I  never  listened  to  one  word  of  it  I" 

«♦  I  thought  you  went  to  Y on  purpose  to  obtain  in- 

formation  on  the  subject  of  emigrnAim  to  Canada  V 

**  Well,  and  so  I  did;  but  when  the  fellow  pulled  out  his 
pamphlet,  and  sud  that  it  ccmtwned  the  substance  of  his  lec- 
ture, and  would  <mly  cost  a  slulling,  I  thought  that  it  was 
better  to  secure  the  substaooe  than  endeavour  to  catch  the 
shadow— so  I  bought  the  book,  and  spared  myself  the  pain  of 
listening  to  the  oraUwy  of  the  writer.  Mrs.  Moodie,  he  had  * 
a  shocking  delivery,  a  drawling,  vulgar  vtuce  ■  and  he  spoke 
with  such  a  nasal  twang  that  I  could  not  bear  to  look  at  him, 
or  liHten  to  him.  He  made  such  grammatioat  blunders,  that 
my  «des  ached  with  laughing  at  him.  Oh,  I  wish  you  could 
hav  seen  the  wretch !  But  here  is  the  document,  written  in 
the  same  style  in  whidi  it  was  qpdMO.  Read  it :  you  have 
a  rfii  treat  m  store." 


■4 


I 


'i 


n 


W  xoiroBaw  it  in  the  bush. 

I  took  the  pimphlet,  not » little  ommed  at  his  deaoriptiw 
of  Mr.  C 1  for  whom  I  felt  en  unoharitable  dislilie. 

'*And  how  did  you  oontriTo  to  entertain  yourseUI  Mr. 
WilwD,  during  his  long  addressf 

"  By  thinking  how  many  fools  were  collected  together,  t<  i 
listen  to  one  greater  than  Uie  rest  By  the  way,  Moodie,  did^ 
you  notice  farmer  Flitch  f*  * 

"  No;  where  did  he  sit  T 

"  At  the  foot  of  the  table.  You  must  have  seen  him,  he 
was  too  big  to  be  overlooked.  What  a  delightftil  squint  he 
had !  ^Vhat  a  ridiculous  likeness  there  was  between  him  and 
the  roast  pig  he  was  carving !  I  was  wondering  all  dinner* 
time  how  that  man  contrived  to  cut  up  that  pig ;  for  one  eye 
was  fixed  upon  the  ceiling,  and  the  other  leering  very  affiao* 
tionately  at  me.    It  was  very  droll ;  was  it  not  T 

"■  And  what  do  you  intend  doing  with  yourself  when  you 
arrive  in  Canadar  said  I. 

*'  Find  out  some  large  hollow  tree,  and  live,  like  Bruhi  in 
the  winter,  by  sucking  my  paws.  In  the  summer  there  will  be 
plenty  of  mast  and  acorns  to  satisfy  the  wants  of  an  abste- 
mious fellow.** 

''But,  joUng  apart, my  dear  fellow,**  sdd  my  husband, 
anxious  to  induce  Um  to  abandon  a  scheme  so  hopeless,  "do 
you  think  that  you  are  at  all  qualified  for  a  life  of  toil  and 
hardship  f* 

"■Are  you  f*  returned  Tom,  raising  Vs  large,  bushy,  black  i 
eyebrows  to  the  top  of  Us  forehead,  and  fixing  bis  leaden 
eyes  stead&stly  upon  Us  interrogator,  with  an  ur  of  such  ab 
surd  gravity  that  we  burst  into  a  hearty  laugh. 

"  Now  what  do  you  laugh  for  1  I  am  sure  I  asked  you  a 
irery  serious  question." 

**  But  your  method  of  putthig  it  is  so  unusual  toat  |oa 
most  excuse  us  for  laughing.** 


at  his  d«aoriptkm 

>le  dislike. 

kin  yourselil  Mr. 

eoted  together,  t<  i 


wfty,  Hoodie,  did 


I 


have  seen  him,  he 
ilightftil  squint  he 

between  him  and 
dering  all  dinner* 

pig ;  for  one  eye 
leering  very  affiao* 

notr 
pourself  when  you 

live,  like  Bruin  in 
amer  there  will  be 
rants  of  an  ab«t»' 

■aid  uiy  husband, 

)  so  hopeless,  "do 

a  life  of  toU  and 

ai]ge,  bushy,  black  i 
fixing  lus  leaden 
an  lur  of  sudi  ab 
igh. 
ire  I  asked  you  • 

unusual  toatjoa 


TOM  wasos^a  emiqbatiov.  m 

"  I  don't  want  you  to  weep,"  ^M.  Tom ;  "  but  as  t »  om 
qualifications,  Moodie,  I  think  them  pretty  equal.    1  know 
you  think  otherwise,  but  I  will  explain.    Let  me  see ;  what 
was  I  going  to  say  1— ah,  I  have  it !    You  go  with  the  inten* 
tion  of  clearing  land,  and  working  for  yourself,  and  doing  a 
great  deal.    I  have  tried  that  before  in  New  South  Wales, 
snd  I  know  that  it  won't  answer.    Gentlemen  can't  work  like 
labourers,  and  if  they  could,  they  won't — it  is  not  in  them, 
and  that  you  will  find  out    You  expect,  by  going  to  Canada, 
to  make  your  fortune,  or  at  least  secure  a  comfortable  inde> 
pcndence.    I  anticipate  no  such  results ;  yet  1  mean  to  goi, 
partly  out  of  a  whim,  partly  to  satisfy  my  curiosity  whether 
it  is  a  better  country  than  New  South  Wales ;  and  lastly,  in 
the  hope  of  bettering  my  condition  in  a  small  way,  which  at 
present  is  so  bad  that  it  can  scarcely  be  worse.    I  mean  t* 
purchase  a  Arm  with  the  three  hundred  pounds  I  received  last 
week  from  the  sale  of  my  ftther's  property ;  and  if  the  Cana^ 
dian  soil  yields  only  half  what  Mr.  C-^  says  it  does,  I  need 
not  starve.    But  the  refined  habits  in  which  you  have  been 
brought  up,  and  your  unfortunate  literary  propenstties— (I  say 
unfortunate,  because  yod  will  seldom  meet  people  fai  a  colony 
who  can  or  will  sympathise  with  you  in  these  pursuits)— they 
will  make  you  an  object  of  mistrust  and  envy  to  tlwse  who 
cannot  appreciate  them,  and  will  be  a  source  of  constant  mor. 
tification  and  disappointment  to  yourself.   Tlmnk  God !  I  have 
110  literary  propensities;  but  in  spite  of  the  latter  advantage, 
in  all  probability  I  shall  make  no  exertion  at  all ;  so  that  your 
enei^,  damped  by  disgust  and  disappointment,  and  my  lazi^ 
ness,  will  end  in  the  same  thing,  and  we  shall  both  return  like 
bad  pennies  to  our  native  shores.    But,  as  1  have  neither  wifo 
nor  child  to  involve  in  my  fcilure,  I  thii*,  without  much  self- 
flattery,  that  my  prospects  are  better  than  yours." 

TUs  was  the  longest  f  peech  I  ever  heard  Tom  utter ;  and, 


1 


?I 


mm 


MouoHiKQ  IT  :r  ran  Busa. 

evidently  Mtonished  at  hitnwlf,  he  q>rang  abruptly  from  the 
tablt^,  ovenet  a  oup  of  coffee  into  my  lap,  and  wishing  ua 
goodly  (it  waa  eleven  o'olocli  at  night),  he  ran  out  of  the 
htjiise. 

There  was  more  truth  in  poor  Tnm'a  words  than  at  that 
moment  we  were  willing  to  allow ;  for  youth  and  hope  were 
Oil  our  aide  in  those  days,  and  we  were  most  ready  to  believe 
the  suggestions  of  the  latter. 

My  husband  finally  determined  to  emigrate  to  Canada, 
and  in  the  hurry  and  bustle  of  a  sudden  preparation  to  de- 
part,  Tom  and  his  affairs  for  a  while  were  forgotten. 

How  dark  and  heavily  did  that  frightftd  anticipation  weigh 
upon  my  heart !    As  the  time  for  our  departure  drew  near, 
the  thought  of  leaving  my  friends  and  native  land  became  so 
intensely  painful  that  it  haunted  me  even  in  sleep.    I  seldom 
awoke  without  finding  my  pillow  wet  with  tears.    The  glory 
of  May  was  upon  the  earth— of  an  English  May.    The  woods 
were  bursting  into  leaf,  the  meadows  and  hedge-rows  were 
flushed  with  flowery  and  every  grove  and  copse  wood  echoed 
to  the  vtarblings  of  birds  and  the  humming  of  bees.  To  leave 
England  at  all  was  dreadful— to  leave  her  at  such  a  season 
was  doubly  so.    1  went  to  take  a  last  look  at  the  old  Hall,  iba 
beloved  home  of  my  childhood  and  youth ;  to  wander  once 
more  beneath  the  shade  of  ita  venerable  oaks — to  rest  once 
mote  upon  the  velvet  sward  that  carpeted  their  roots.   It  waa 
wlule  reposing  beneath  those  noble  trees  that  I  bad  first  ui> 
dulged  in  those  delicious  dreams  which  are  a  foretaste  of  the 
enioymentooftheq>irit^land.    In  tliem  the  soul  breathes  fortk 
its  aspirations  in  a  language  unknown  to  common  minds ;  and 
that  language  is  Poetry.    Here  annually,  ttora.  year  to  year, 
I  had  renewed  my  friendship  with  the  first  primroses  and  vio> 
lets,  and  listened  with  the  untiring  ear  of  love  to  the  spring 
roundelay  of  the  blackbird,  whistled  from  amoi^  his  bower 


'■»■!    HJJU.lIll 


bruptly  from  the 
>,  and  wishing  iw 
a  ran  out  of  Um 

ords  than  at  that 
h  and  hope  were 
t  ready  to  believe 

ignte  to  Cknada, 
treparadon  to  d»- 
}rgotten. 

•ntioipatioD  weigh 
•rture  drew  near, 
'e  land  became  to 
1  deep.    I  aeldom 
teon.    Hie  glory 
May.    The  woodi 
hedge-rows  were 
copsewood  echoed 
of  bees.  To  leave 
r  at  such  a  season 
at  the  old  Hall,  the 
k;  to  wander  once 
laks — to  rest  once 
their  roots.    It  was 
that  I  had  6r8t  in- 
I  a  foretaste  of  the 
soul  breathes  forth 
maaaa  minds ;  and 
teom  year  to  year, 
primroses  and  view 
love  to  the.  qpring 
1  arooi^  hisbowsr 


TOM  wnaot^a  mmiqbatioh. 


4f 


of  May  blossoms.    Her^  I  had  discoursed  sweet  words  to  ths 
tinliling  brooI^  and  learned  from  the  melody  of  waters  the 
music  of  natural  sounds.    In  these  beloved  solitudes  all  the 
holy  emotions  which  stir  the  human  heart  in  its  depths  had 
been  freely  poured  forth,  and  found  a  response  in  the  harmo- 
nious  voice  of  Nature,  bearing  aloft  the  choral  song  of  earth 
to  the  throne  of  the  Creator. 

Dear,  dear  England!  why  was  I  forced  by  a  stem  neces 
sity  to  leave  you  1    What  heinous  crime  had  I  committed, 
that  I,  who  adored  you,  should  be  torn  from  your  sacred 
bosom,  to  pine  out  my  joyless  existence  in  a  foreign  climel 
Oh,  that  I  might  be  permitted  to  return  and  die  iMon  your 
wavemndrcled  shores,  and  rest  my  weary  head  and    jart  le- 
neath  your  daisy  covered  sod  at  last ! 

•  ••••• 

Whilst  talliing  over  our  coming  separation  with  my  sister 

C ,  we  observed  Tom  Wilson  walkmg  slowly   up  the 

path  that  led  to  the  house.  He  was  dr«wd  to  a  new  shoot- 
faig-jacket,  with  his  gun  lying  carelessly  across  his  shoulder, 
and  an  ugly  pointer  dog  following  at  a  little  distance. 

«  WeU,  Mrs.  Moodie,  I  am  off,"  said  Tom,  shaking  handf 
with  my  sister  instead  of  me.  "  I  suppose  I  shall  see  Moodit 
hi  London.  What  do  you  think  of  my  dogl"  patting  him 
affectionately. 

"  I  think  him  an  ugly  beast,"  said  C .  «  Do  you  mean 

to  take  him  with  you  1" 

"  An  ugly  beast !— Duchess  a  beast  1  Why  she  Is  a  per- 
feet  beauty  '.—Beauty  and  the  beast !  Ha,  ha,  ha !  I  gave  two 
guineas  for  her  last  night."  (I  thought  of  the  old  adage.) 
"  Mrs.  Moodie,  your  sister  is  no  judge  of  a  dog." 

"  Very  likely,"  returned  C ,  laughing.     "  And  yon  go 

to  town  uvnight,  Mr.  WUson  ?  I  thought  as  you  cam..  «p  »o 
(he  hoiM»  that  you  were  equipped  for  shootinf , ' 


4A 


ROUGinNG  IT  IN  THE  BVUH. 


«  To  be  qure ;  there  is  capital  shootiiij 
'  So  I  hate  heard — plenty  oi  bears 


in  Canada." 
wolves.  Isip[iOM 
you  take  out  your  dog  and  gu©  "ji  anticipation  1" 
"True,"  said  Tom. 

"  But  you  surely  are  not  going  to  take  that  dog  with  you  1" 
^  Indeed  I  am.    She  is  a  most  valuable  brute.    The  very 
best  venture  I  could  take.    My  brother  Charles  has  engaged 
our  passage  in  the  same  vessel." 

"It  would  be  a  pity  to  part  you,"  arid  I.    "May  y(Hi 
wove  as  Ihcky  a  pair  as  Whittington  and  his  cat." 

"Whittingtonl  WWttington !"  said  Tom,  staring  at  my 
sister,  and  beginning  to  dream,  which  he  invariably  did  in  the 
company  of  women.    "  Who  was  the  gentleman  T 

"  A  very  old  friend  of  mine,  one  whom  I  have  known 
rince  I  was  a  very  little  girl,"  said  my  sister ; "  but  I  have  not 
time  to  tell  you  more  about  him  now.  If  you  go  to  St.  Paul's 
Churchyard,  and  inquire  for  Sir  Richard  Whittington  and  his 
cat,  you  will  get  his  history  for  a  mere  trifle." 

"  Do  not  mind  her,  Mr.  Wilson,  she  is  quizring  you," 
quoth  I ;  "  I  wish  you  a  safe  voyage  across  the  Atlantic ;  I 
wish  I  could  add  a  happy  meeting  with  your  friends.    But 
where  shall  we  find  friends  in  a  strange  land  1" 

"  All  in  good  time,"  said  Tom.  "  I  hope  to  have  the  pleas- 
on  of  meeting  you  in  the  backwoods  of  Canada  before  three 
months  are  over.    What  adventures  we  shall  have  to  tell  one 
another!    It  will  be  capital.    Good-bye." 

•  ••••• 

«Tom  has  sailed,"  said  Captain  Charles  Wflson,  stepping 
teto  my  little  parlour  a  few  days  after  his  .eccentric  brother's 
last  visit.  "  1  saw  him  and  Duchess  safe  on  board.  Odd  as 
be  is,  I  parted  with  him  with  a  ftiU  heart ;  I  felt  as  if  we  never 
•hould  meet  again.  Poor  Tom !  he  Is  the  only  brother  left 
me  now  that  I  oa»  -ove.    Robert  and  I  never  agreed  very 


r. 


rou  wasoirs  EniasATioN. 


48 


Canada." 
olves.  Isip[ioM 
nl" 

,t  dog  with  your 
jrute.  The  verj 
rles  has  engaged 

id  I.    "May  you 

I  cat." 

I,  staring  at  my 

ariably  did  in  the 

man?" 

[>m  I  have  known 

■;"  but  I  have  not 

lu  go  to  St  Paul's 

hittington  and  his 

s." 

is  quizDng  you," 
9  the  Atlantic;  I 
3ur  fiiends.    But 

\r 

to  have  die  pleas- 
inada  before  three 
til  have  to  tell  one 

I  WQson,  stepping 
(Bocentric  brother's 
>n  board.  Odd  as 
felt  as  if  ve  never 
e  only  brother  left 
never  agreed  very 


well,  and  there  is  little  cbanoe  of  our  meeting  in  this  world. 
He  IS  married,  and  settled  down  for  life  in  New  South  Wales; 
and  the  rest,  John,  Richard,  George,  are  all  gone — all !" 

"  Was  Tom  in  good  spirits  when  you  parted  T" 

**  Yes.  He  is  a  perfect  contradiction.  He  always  laughs 
and  cries  in  the  wrong  place.  *  Charles,'  he  sud,  with  a  loud 
laugh, '  tell  tiie  girls  to  get  some  new  music  against  I  return : 
and,  hark  ye !  ir  I  never  come  back,  I  leave  them  my  Kaoga> 
roo  Waltz  as  a  legacy.' " 

<*  What  a  strange  creature !" 

<*  Strange,  indeed ;  you  don't  Icnow  half  lus  oddities.  H« 
has  very  little  money  to  take  out  with  him,  but  he  actually 
paid  for  two  berths  in  the  diip,  that  he  might  not  chance  to 
have  a  person  who  snored  sleep  near  him.  Hiirty  pounds 
thrown  away  upon  die  mere  chance  of  a  snoring  companion ! 
'  Besides,  diaries,*  quoth  he,  *  I  cannot  endure  to  share  my  little 
cabin  with  others ;  they  will  use  my  towels,  and  combs,  and 
brushes,  like  that  confounded  rascal  who  slept  in  the  same 
bwth  with  me  coming  from  New  South  Wales,  who  had  the 
impudence  to  clean  his  teeth  with  my  tooth-brush.  Here  I 
diall  be  alone,  huppy  and  comfortable  as  a  prince,  and  Duch- 
ess dull  deep  in  the  after-berth,  and  be  my  queen.'  And  so 
we  parted,"  continued  Captain  Charles.  "May  Crod  take 
care  of  him,  for  he  never  could  take  care  of  himself." 

"That  puts  me  in  mind  of  the  reason  he  gave  for  not 
going  with  u&  He  was  afraid  that  my  baby  would  keep  \am 
awake  of  a  night.    He  hates  children,  and  says  that  he  never 

will  marry  on  that  .soount." 

•  ••••• 

We  left  the  British  diores  on  the  1st  of  July,  end  oast 
anchor,  as  I  have  already  diown,  under  the  Castle  of  Si 
Lewis,  at  Quebec,  on  the  2d  of  September,  1832.  Tom 
Wllacm  suled  the  Ist  of  May,  and  had  a  speedy  pamage,  and 


-I 
1 


-<?? 


.,;iii«»f..Jy»''* 


BOUQHINQ  IT  IN  THE  BVSR. 

was,  as  wo  heard  from  his  friends,  comfortably  settled  iu  tha 
bush,  had  bought  a  &rm,  and  meant  to  commence  operation* 
in  the  fidl.  All  this  was  good  news,  and  as  he  was  settled 
near  my  brother's  location,  we  congratulated  ourselves  thai 
our  eccentric  friend  had  found  a  home  in  the  wilderness  at 
last,  and  that  we  should  soon  see  him  again. 

On  the  9th  of  September,  the  steamboat  William  JV. 

landed  us  at  the  then  small  but  rising  town  of ,  on  the 

Ontario.  The  night  was  dark  and  rainy;  the  boat  was 
crowded  with  emigrants;  and  when  we  arrived  at  the  inn, 
we  learnt  that  there  was  no  room  for  us — not  a  bed  to  be 
had ;  nor  was  it  likely,  owing  to  the  number  of  strangers  that 
had  arrived  for  several  weeks,  that  we  could  obtain  one  by 
searching  farther.  Moodie  requested  the  use  of  a  sofa  for  me 
during  the  night;  but  even  that  produced  a  demur  from  the 
landlord.  Whilst  I  awaited  the  result  in  a  passage,  crowded 
with  strange  faces,  a  pair  of  eyes  glanced  upon  me  through 
the  throng.  Was  it  posnblet — could  it  be  Tom  Wilson  1 
Did  any  other  human  being  possess  such  eyes,  or  use  them  in 
such  an  eccentric  manner  1  In  another  sectmd  he  had  pushed 
his  way  to  my  side,  whiqwring  in  my  ear,  **  We  met,  'twas 
fai  a  crowd." 

«Tom  Wilson,  is  that  you  ?" 

*'  Do  you  doubt  it  ?  I  flatter  myself  that  there  b  no  Hk». 
ness  of  such  a  handsome  fellow  to  be  found  in  the  world.  It 
is  1, 1  swear ! — although  very  little  of  me  is  left  to  swear  by. 
Tlie  best  part  of  me  I  have  left  to  fiitten  the  mosquitoes  and 
block  flies  in  that  infernal  bush.    But  where  is  Moodie  f 

''There  he  is — ^trying  to  induce  Mr.  S ^  fbr  love  or 

money,  to  let  me  have  a  bed  for  the  night." 

"You  shall  have  mine,"  said  Tom.  "I  can  sleep  upoa 
the  floor  of  the  parlour  in  a  blanket,  Indian  fiuhion.  It's  a 
hargidn — 111  go  and  settle  it  with  the  Yankee  directly ;  he's 


fc 

il. 

O' 

U 


■i 
tl 

fi 

11 


»-7.y  WILSON'S  EMJORATION. 


45 


settled  iu  tbt 
ice  operation* 
e  was  settled 
>ur8elTes  that 
wildemess  at 

William  JV. 

f ,  on  the 

iJte  boat  was 
sd  at  the  inn, 

a  bed  to  be 
strangers  that 
tbtain  one  by 
'a  sofa  forme 
>mur  from  the 
sage,  crowded 
n  me  through 
Fom  Wilson) 
>r  use  them  in 
te  had  pushed 
Ve  met,  'twas 


lere  b  no  lik»i 
the  world.  It 
b  to  swear  by. 
losquitoes  and 
Moodier 
-,  for  lore  or 

in  deep  upoa 
isfaion.  It's  a 
directly;  htt'M 


the  best  fellow  \a  the  world !  In  the  mean  while  here  is  a 
Bttle  parlour,  which  is  a  joint^tock  d&ur  between  some  of  us 
young  hopefiils  for  the  time  being.  Step  in  here,  and  I  will 
go  for  Moodie ;  I  long  to  tell  him  what  I  think  of  this  con- 
founded country.  But  you  wiU  find  it  out  all  in  good  time ;" 
and,  rubbing  his  hands  together  with  a  most  lively  and  mis- 
flUevous  expression,  he  diouldered  his  way  through  trunks, 
and  boxes,  and  anxious  faces,  to  communicate  to  my  husband 
tb^  arrangement  he  had  so  kindly  made  for  us. 

"  Accept  this  gentleman's  ofiler,  sir,  till  to-morrow,"  said 

Mr.  S y  "  I  can  then  make  more  comfortable  arrangements 

for  your  family ;.  but  we  are  crowded — crowded  to  excess. 
My  wife  and  daughters  are  obliged  to  sleep  in  a  little  diomber 
over  the  stable,  to  give  our  guests  more  room.  Hard  that,  I 
guess,  for  decent  people  to  locate  over  the  horses." 

These  matters  settled,  Moodie  returned  with  Tom  Wilson 
to  the  little  parlour,  in  which  I  had  already  made  myself  at 
home. 

"  Well,  nov,  is  it  not  funny  that  I  should  be  the  first  to 
welcome  you  to  Canada?"  said  Tom. 

**  But  what  are  you  doing  here,  my  dear  fellow  T 

"  flaking  every  day  with  the  ague.  But  I  could  lau^  in 
•pite  of  my  teeth  to  hear  them  make  such  a  confounded  rat> 
tiii^ ;  you  would  think  they  were  all  quarrelling  which  diould 
first  get  out  of  my  mouth.  This  shaking  mania  forms  one  of 
tlie  chief  attractions  of  Uiis  new  country." 

"  I  fear,"  said  I,  remarking  how  thin  and  pale  he  had  be> 
oome,  "  that  this  dimate  cannot  agree  with  you." 

**  Nor  I  with  the  climate.  Well,  we  diall  soon  be  quits, 
fbr,  to  let  you  into  a  secret,  I  am  now  on  my  way  to  EngUud.** 

"And  die  fkrm ;  what  have  you  dcme  with  it  1" 

"Bold  it" 

"To  whom r 


in 


■>«■■ 


W: 


45  MommyQ  it  or  thm  bush. 

«To  one  who  wiU  take  better  care  of  both  than  I  did. 
Ah !  such  a  country  1— euoh  people !— such  rogues !  It  beata 
Australia  hollow ;  you  know  your  customers  there— but  here 
you  haw  to  find  them  out  Such  a  take-in !— God  forgiTe 
tbam  I  I  never  could  take  care  of  money ;  and,-  one  way  or 
other,  they  have  cheated  me  out  of  aU  mine.  I  have  scarcely 
enough  left  to  pay  my  passage  home.  But,  to  provide  against 
the  worst,  I  have  bouj^t  a  young  bear,  a  splendid  fellow,  to 
make  my  peace  with  my  unde.    You  must  see  him;  he  is 

dose  by  in  the  stable."  ,   .  *     t  i.» 

"To-morrow  we  will  pay  a  visit  to  Brum;  but  to-night 

do  tell  us  something  about  yourself;  and  your  residence  in  the 

bush.**  ,  ,        , 

«You  will  know  enough  about  the  bush  by  and  by,  1 
am  a  bad  historian,"  he  continued,  stretching  out  his  legs  and 
yawning  horribly,  "a  worse  biographer,  i  never  can  find 
words  to  relate  facts.  But  I  will  try  what  I  can  do  j  mmd, 
don't  laugh  at  my  blunders." 

We  promised  to  be  serious— no  easy  matter  while  lookmg 
•t  and  listening  to  Tom  Wilson,  and  he  gave  us,  at  detached 
intervals,  the  following  account  of  himself  :— 

«  My  troubles  began  at  sea.  We  had  a  fair  voyage,  and 
dl  Uiat;  but  my  poor  dog,  my  beautiful  Duchess '—that 
beauty  in  the  beasts-died.  I  wanted  to  read  the  fUneral 
.BTvice  over  her,  but  the  captain  interfered-the  brute  !~«id 
threatened  to  throw  me  into  the  sea  along  with  the  dead 
bitch,  as  tiie  unmannerly  ruffian  persisted  in  calling  my  canine 
friend.  I  never  spoke  to  him  again  during  the  rest  of  the 
voyage.  Nothing  happened  worth  relating  until  I  got  to  this 
pUoe,  where  I  chanced  to  meet  a  firiend  who  knew  your  bro- 
SerTand  I  went  up  with  him  to  the  woods.  Most  of  the  wise 
men  of  Gotham  we  met  on  the  road  were  bound  to  the  woods; 
M>  I  felt  happy  that  I  was,  at  least,  in  the  fashion.    Mr. • 


si 


TOM  WILSOJPS  EiitQBATlON. 


47 


oth  tliao  I  didL 
gues !  It  beat* 
there — ^but  here 
!— God  forgiTe 
ind,~  one  way  or 
I  have  aoareely 
» provide  against 
endid  fellow,  to 
see  him}  he  is 

in;  but  to-night 
r  rendence  in  the 

by  and  by»  I 
;  out  his  legs  and 
[  never  can  find 
I  can  do;  mind, 

lierwhUe  looking 
re  OS,  at  detached 

k  fiur  voyage,  and 
Duchess! — that 
read  the  ftmeral 
-the  brute  t — and 
[ig  with  the  dead 
calling  my  canine 
g  the  rest  of  the 
until  I  got  to  this 
lo  knew  your  bw>- 
Most  of  the  wise 
lund to  the  woods; 
isluon.    Mr.  — — 


ms  very  kind,  and  qwke  in  raptures  of  the  woods,  which 
formed  the  theme  of  conversation  during  our  journey;  their 
beauty,  their  vastness,  the  comfort  and  independence  enjoyed 
by  those  who  had  settled  in  them ;  and  he  so  inspired  me 
with  the  subject  that  I  did  nothing  aU  day  but  sing  as  we  roSe 
along-' 

••  A  UA  ia  the  woods  for  me ;" 

until  we  came  to  the  woods,  and  then  I  soon  learned  to  aiiig 
that  same,  as  the  Irishman  says,  on  the  other  side  of  ray 

mouth."  _ 

Here  succeeded  a  long  pause,  during  which  friend  Tom 

seemed  mightily  tickled  with  his  reminiscences,  for  he  leaned 

back  in  his  chair,  and  from  time  to  time  gave  way  to  loud, 

hollow  bursts  of  laughter. 

"Tom,  Torn!  are  you  going  madl"  said  my  husband, 

shaking  him. 

« I  never  was  sane,  that  I  know  of,"  returned  he.  «  You 
know  that  it  runs  in  the  family.  But  do  let  me  have  my 
laugh  out  The  woods!  Ha!  ha!  When  I  used  to  be 
roaming  through  those  woods,  shooting— though  not  a  thing 
could  I  ever  find  to  shoot,  for  birds  and  beasts  are  not  such 
fools  as  our  English  emigrants— and  I  chanced  to  think  of  you 
coming  to  spend  the  rest  of  your  lives  in  the  woods— I  used 
to  stop,  and  hold  my  rides,  and  laugh  until  the  woods  rang 
agun.    It  was  the  only  consolation  I  had." 

«  Good  Heavens ! '  said  I,  "  let  us  never  go  to  the  woods," 

«  You  will  repent  if  you  do,"  continued  Tom.     "  But  let 

me  proceed  on  my  journey.    My  bones  were  weU-nigh  dis- 

located  before  we  got  to  D .    The  roads  for  the  hist 

twelve  miles  were  nothing  but  a  succesaon  of  mud4u)le8, 
covered  with  the  most  ingenious  invention  ever  thought  offer 
racking  the  limbs,  called  corduroy  bridges;  not  breeches, 


.1 


■ 


48 


MOUQ^NQ  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


mind  you,— for  I  thought,  whils*  jolting  up  and  dx>m\  over 
tiiem,  that  I  should  arrive  at  my  destination  minus  that  indis. 

pensable  covering.    It  was  night  when  we  got  to  Mr. ^"s 

place.  I  was  tired  and  hungry,  my  face  disfigured  and  Wis. 
tered  by  the  unremitting  attentions  of  the  blaok-flies  that  ruae 
in  swarms  from  the  river.  I  thought  to  get  a  private  room 
to  wash  and  dress  in,  but  there  is  no  such  thing  as  privacy  in 
this  country.  In  the  bush,  all  things  are  in  common ;  you 
cannot  even  get  a  bed  without  having  to  share  it  with  a  com. 
panion.  A  bed  on  the  floor  in  a  public  sleeping-room ! 
Think  '>f  that ;  a  public  sleeping-room !— men,  women,  and 
children,  only  divided  by  a  paltry  curtain.  Oh,  ye  gods! 
think  of  the  snoring,  squalling,  grumbling,  puffing ;  think  of 
the  kicking,  elbowing,  and  crowding ;  the  sufTocaMng  heat— 
the  mosquitoes,  with  their  infernal  buzzing— and  you  will 
form  some  idea  of  the  misery  I  endured  the  first  night  of  my 
arrival  in  the  bush. 

"  But  these  are  not  half  the  evils  with  which  you  have  to 
contend.  You  are  pestered  with  nocturnal  visitants  far  more 
disagreeable  than  even  the  mosquitoes,  and  must  put  up  with 
annoyances  more  disgusting  than  the  crowded,  dose  room. 
And  then,  to  appease  the  cravings  of  hunger,  fat  pork  is 
■enred  to  you  tlu-ee  times  arday.  No  wonder  that  the  Jews 
ewhewed  the  vile  animal;  they  were  people  of  taste.  Pork, 
morning,  noon,  and  night,  swimming  in  its  own  grease  I  The 
bishop  who  complained  of  partridges  every  day,  should  have 
been  condemned  to  three  months'  feeding  upon  pork  in  the 
bush :  and  he  would  have  become  an  anchorite,  to  escape  the 
horrid  t  ght  of  swine's  flesh  for  ever  spread  before  him.  No 
wonder  I  am  thin :  I  have  been  starved — starved  upon  prit 
ters  and  pork,  and  that  disgusting  specimen  of  unleavened 
bread,  yclept  cakes  in  the  pan. 

"I  had  such  n  horror  of  tiie  pork  diet,  timt  whenever  I  saw 


p  and  do>ni  over 
k  minus  that  indi» 

^t  to  Mr. ^s 

isfigured  and  Uis- 
ilaok-ffiea  that  rune 
it  s  private  room 
;hing  as  privacy  in 
in  common;  you 
lare  it  with  a  com- 
ic sleeping-room ! 
-men,  women,  and 
n.  Oh,  ye  gods! 
puffing;  think  of 
sufToca^ing  heat — 
ng — and  you  will 
e  first  night  of  my 

nrhich  you  have  to 
visitants  far  more 
I  must  put  up  with 
irded,  dose  room, 
inger,  fat  pork  is 
ndor  that  the  Jews 
le  of  taste.  Pork, 
own  grease  I  The 
y  day,  should  have 
;  upon  pork  in  the 
orite,  to  escape  the 
d  before  him.  No 
■starved  upon  prit 
nen  of  unleavened 

bt  whenever  I  saw 


TOM  triLSOiPS  EMIO RATION.  4f- 

the  dinner  in  progress  I  fled  to  the  canoe,  in  the  hope  of 
drowning  upon  the  waters  all  reminiscences  of  the  hateful 
banquet ;  but  even  here  the  very  fowls  of  the  air,  and  the 
reptiles  of  the  deep,  lifted  up  their  voices,  and  shouted, 
"Pork,  pork,  pork!" 

M remonstrated  with  his  friend  for  deserting  the 

country  for  such  minor  evils  as  these,  which,  after  all,  he 
said,  could  easily  be  borne. 

"Easily  borne!"  exclaimed  the  indignant  Wilson.  "Go 
and  try  them,  and  then  tell  me  that  I  did  try  to  bear  them 
with  a  good  grace,  but  it  would  not  do.  I  ofiended  every  body 
with  my  grumbling.  I  was  constantly  reminded  by  the  ladies 
of  the  house,  that  gentlemen  should  not  come  to  this  country 
without  they  were  able  to  put  up  with  a  little  inconvenience : 
that  I  should  make  as  good  a  settler  as  a  butterfly  in  a  bee- 
hive :  that  it  was  impossible  to  be  nice  about  food  and  dreu 
in  the  buth :  that  people  must  learn  to  eat  what  they  could 
get,  and  be  content  to  be  shabby  and  dirty,  like  their  neigh 
hours,  in  the  Jfuth, — until  that  horrid  word,  bushy  became 
synonymous  witli  all  that  was  hateful  and  revolting  in  my 
mind. 

"  It  was  impossible  to  keep  any  thing  to  myself.  The  chil- 
dren pulled  my  books  to  pieces  to  look  at  the  pictures ;  and 
an  impudent,  bare-legged  Irish  servant-girl  took  my  towels  to 
wipe  the  dishes  with,  and  my  clothes-brush  to  black  the  shoes 

an  operation  which  she  performed  with  a  mixture  of  soot 

and  grease.  I  thought  I  should  be  better  off  in  a  place  of  my 
own,  so  I  bought  a  wild  farm  that  was  recommended  to  me, 
and  paid  for  it  double  what  it  was  worth.  When  I  came  to 
examine  my  estate,  I  found  there  was  no  house  upon  it,  and  1 
should  have  to  wut  until  the  fall  to  get  one  put  up,  and  a  few 
acres  deared  for  cultivation.  I  was  glad  to  return  to  my  3ld 
quarters. 


M 


.^^ 


50 


ROUOMINQ  IT  IN  THE  BUSff. 


«  Unding  nothing  to  shoot  in  the  woods,  I  determined  to 

amuse  myself  with  fishing;  but  Mr. could  not  always  lend 

his  canoe,  and  there  was  no  other  to  be  had.  To  pass  away 
Uie  time,  I  set  about  making  one.  I  bought  an  axe,  and  went 
to  the  forest  to  select  a  tree.  About  a  mile  from  the  lake,  I 
found  the  largest  pine  I  ever  saw.  I  did  not  much  like  to  try 
my  mwden  hand  upon  it,  for  it  was  the  first  and  the  last  tree 
I  ever  cut  down.  But  to  it  I  went ;  and  I  blessed  God  that  it 
reached  the  ground  vnthout  kilUng  me  in  its  way  thither. 
When  I  was  about  it,  I  thought  I  might  as  well  make  the 
canoe  big  enough;  but  the  bulk  of  the  tree  deceived  me  in 
the  length  of  my  vessel,  and  I  forgot  to  measure  the  one  that 

belonged  to  Mr. .    It  took  me  six  weeks  hoUowing  it 

out,  and  when  it  was  finished,  it  was  as  long  as  a  sloop^f-war, 
and  too  unwieldy  for  all  the  oxen  in  the  township  to  draw  it 
to  the  water.  After  aU  my  labour,  my  combats  with  those 
wood-demons,  the  black-flies,  sand-flies,  and  mosquitoes,  my 
boat  remains  a  useless  monument  of  my  industry.  And 
worse  than  this,  the  fetigue  I  had  endured  wUle  working  at  it 
late  and  early,  brought  on  the  ague ;  which  so  disgusted  me 
with  the  country  that  I  sold  my  farm  and  all  my  traps  for  an 
old  song :  purdiased  Bruin  to  bear  me  company  on  my  voy- 
age  home ;  and  the  moment  I  am  able  to  get  rid  of  this  tor- 
menting fever,  I  am  off." 

Argument  and  remonstrance  were  alike  in  vain,  he  could 
not  be  dissuaded  ftom  his  purpose.    Tom  was  aa  obstinate  as 

his  bear. 

The  next  morning  he  conducted  us  to  the  stable  to  see 
Bruin.  The  young  denizen  of  the  forest  was  tied  to  the 
manger,  quietly  masticating  a  cob  of  Indian  com,  which  he 
held  in  his  paw,  and  looked  half  human  as  he  sat  upon  his 
haunches,  regarding  us  with  a  solemn,  melancholy  air.  There 
was  an  extraordinary  likaiess,  quite  ludicrous,  >»tween  Tom 


TOM  WILSON'S  EMIORATION. 


5t 


determined  to 
aot  always  lend 

To  paas  away 
a  axe,  atid  went 
rom  the  lake,  I 
nuch  like  to  try 
nd  the  last  tree 
9sed  God  that  it 
its  way  thither. 

well  make  the 
I  deceived  me  in 
lire  the  one  that 
)lcs  hollowing  it 
ks  a  sloop-of-war, 
nship  to  draw  it 
ibaUi  with  those 

mosquitoes,  my 

industry.  And 
ule  working  at  it 

so  disgusted  me 

my  traps  for  an 
pany  on  my  voy- 
et  rid  of  this  tor. 

in  vain,  he  could 
IS  as  obstinate  as 

die  stable  to  see 
was  tied  to  the 
n  com,  which  he 
,  he  sat  upon  his 
choly  air.  There 
»us,  >)etween  Tom 


and  the  bear.  We  said  nothing,  but  exchanged  glances.  Tom 

read  our  thoughts. 

"Yes,"  said  he,  " there  is  a  stTo\%  resemblance ;  I  saw  it 
when  I  bought  him.  Perhaps  we  are  brothers;"  and  taking 
in  his  hand  the  chain  that  held  the  bear,  he  bestowed  upon 
him  sundry  fraternal  caresses,  which  the  ungrateful  Bruin 
returned  with  low  and  savage  growls. 

"  He  can't  flatter.  He's  all  truth  and  sincerity.  A  child 
of  nature,  and  worthy  to  be  my  friend;  the  only  Canadian  I 
ever  mean  to  acknowledge  as  such." 

About  an  hour  after  this,  poor  Tom  was  shaking  with  ague, 
which  in  a  few  days  reduced  him  so  low  that  I  began  to  think 
he  would  never  see  his  native  shores  again.  He  bore  the 
affliction  very  philosophicaUy,  and  all  his  weU  days  he  spent 

with  us. 

One  day  my  husband  was  absent,  havmg  accompamed  Mr. 

S to  inspect  a  farm,  which  he  aftei:wards  purchased,  and 

I  had  to  get  through  the  long  day  at  the  inn  hi  the  best  man- 
ner I  could.  The  local  papers  were  soon  exhausted.  At 
that  period  they  possessed  little  or  no  interest  for  me.  I  was 
astonished  and  disgusted  at  the  abusive  manner  in  which 
they  were  written,  the  freedom  of  the  press  being  enjoyed  to 
an  extent  in  this  province  unknown  in  more  civilized  oonir 

munities. 

Men,  in  Ctoada,  may  caU  one  another  roguee  and  mis. 
oreants,  in  the  most  approved  Billingsgate,  through  the  medium 
of  the  newspapers,  which  are  a  sort  of  safety-valve  to  let  off  aU 
the  bad  feelings  and  malignant  passions  floating  through  tlie 
country,  without  any  dread  of  the  horsewhip.  Hence  it  is 
the  commonest  thing  in  the  world  to  hear  one  editor  abusing, 
like  a  pickpocket,  an  opposition  brother;  calling  him  o  rtpHb 
—a  crawling  thing— a  calumniator— a  hired  vendor  of  lies  ; 
and  his  paper  a  mut-maehin»—a  viU  engine  of  corruption,  as 


J 


■fffflfwmwr"^ 


II  I 


88 


ROUOinXO  IT  IN  Tim  BUSH. 


i: 


hiut  and  degraded  as  the  proprietor,  &c.  Of  this  deticription 
wai3  the  paper  I  now  held  in  my  band,  which  had  the  impu- 
dence to  style  itself  the  Be/ormer — not  of  morals  or  manners, 
certainly,  if  one  might  judge  by  the  vulgar  abuse  that  defiled 
every  page  of  the  precious  document  I  soon  flung  it  fW>m 
me,  thinking  it  worthy  of  the  fate  of  many  a  better  production 
hi  the  olden  times,  that  of  being  burned  by  the  common  hang* 
man ;  but,  happily,  the  office  of  hangman  has  become  obsolete 
in  Carada,  and  the  editors  of  these  refined  journals  may  go  on 
abusing  their  betters  with  impunity. 

Books  I  had  none,  and  I  wished  tliat  Tom  woidd  make  hia 
Appearance,  and  amuse  me  with  his  oddities;  but  he  had 
■uilered  so  much  from  the  ague  the  day  before,  tliat  when  he 
did  enter  the  room  to  lead  me  to  dinner,  he  looked  like  • 
walking  corpse— the  dead  among  the  living!  so  iark,  ao 
livid,  so  melancholy,  it  was  really  painful  to  look  upon 
him. 

"  I  hope  the  ladies  who  frequent  the  ordinary  won't  fall  in 
love  with  me,"  said  he,  grinning  at  himself  in  the  miserable 
looking-glass  that  formed  the  case  of  the  Yankee  dock,  and 
was  ostentatiously  displayed  on  a  «de  table ;  **  I  look  quite 

killing  to-day.    What  a  oomfbrt  it  is,  Mrs.  M ,  to  be 

above  all  rivalry." 

In  the  middle  of  dinner,  the  company  was  disturbed  by  the 
oitrtmce  of  a  person  who  had  the  appearance  of  a  gentleman, 
but  who  was  evidently  much  flustered  with  Irinking.  He 
thrust  his  chair  in  between  two  gentlemen  who  sat  at  the 
head  of  the  table,  and  in  a  loud  voice  demanded  fish. 

"  Fish,  sir  ?"  said  the  obsequious  waiter,  a  great  fiivourite 
with  all  persons  who  frequented  the  hotel ;  "  there  is  no  fiush, 
■ir.  There  was  a  fine  salmon,  ur,  had  you  come  somer ; 
but  'tis  all  eaten,  sir." 

"  Tlien  fetch  me  some.** 


con 
bip 
bea 


ted 
of  I 


Lei 
od< 


TOM  WILSOirS  MMIOBATIOX 


Ml 


lis  descriptlctn 
lad  the  impu< 
s  or  manners, 
se  that  defiled 
flung  it  fVom 
ter  production 
common  hang* 
icome  obsolete 
lals  may  go  on 

ould  make  his 
r,  but  he  had 
5,  that  when  he 

looked  like  • 
[I  so  iark,  so 

to  look  upon 

xj  w<m't  fall  in 
1  the  miserable 
iokee  dock,  and 
I  look  quite 


M- 


to  be 


listurbed  by  tlM 
of  a  gentleman, 
I  Irinldng.  He 
who  sat  at  the 
led  fish. 

I  great  fovourite 
'  there  is  no  fiuah, 
u  come  soHier; 


«  ni  see  what  I  can  do,  sir,"  said  the  obliging  Tim,  hurry  ing 

out 

Tom  Wilson  was  at  the  head  of  the  table,  carving  a  roast 
pig,  and  was  in  the  act  of  helping  a  lady,  when  the  rude  fellow 
tlirust  his  fork  into  the  pig,  calling  out  as  he  did  so, 

"  Hold,  sir !  give  me  some  of  that  pig  !  You  have  eaten 
among  you  all  the  fish,  and  now  you  are  going  to  appropriate 
the  best  parts  of  the  pig." 

Tom  ndsed  his  eyebrows,  and  stared  at  the  stranger  la 
his  peculiar  manner,  then  very  coolly  placed  the  whole  of  the 
pig  on  his  plate.  "1  have  heard,"  he  said,  "of  dog  eating 
d(^,  but  I  never  before  saw  pig  eating  pig." 

"Sir!  do  you  mean  to  insult  mel"  cried  the  stranger,  his 
face  crimsoning  with  anger. 

♦'  Only  to  tell  you,  sir,  that  you  are  no  gentleman.  Here, 
Tim,"  turning  to  the  waiter,  "go  to  the  sUble  and  bring  in 
my  bear ;  we  will  place  him  at  the  table  to  teach  this  man 
how  to  behave  himself  in  the  presence  of  ladies." 

A  general  uproar  ensued ;  the  women  lefl  the  table,  while 
the  entrance  of  the  bear  threw  the  gentlemen  present  fato 
convulsions  of  toughter.  It  was  too  much  for  the  human 
biped ;  he  was  forced  to  leave  the  room,  and  succumb  to  the 

bear. 

My  husband  concluded  Ws  purchase  of  the  farm,  and  invi. 
ted  Wilson  to  go  with  us  into  the  country  and  try  if  change 
of  air  would  be  benefidal  to  Wm ;  for  in  his  then  weak  state 
H  was  impossible  for  Wra  to  return  to  England.  His  funds 
were  getting  very  low,  and  Tom  thankfully  accepted  the  ofier. 
Leaving  Bruin  in  the  charge  of  "nm  (who  delighted  in  the 
oddities  of  the  strange  EngliA  gentleman),  Tom  made  onf 
at  our  party  to * 


aotruHim  it  in  i'^^  Bua& 


m%. 


B5 


CHAPTER  V. 
on  mw  BiTTwmiiT,  ahd  tm  bobrowiwo  srinii. 

•n»  hnid,  or  BOt  to  topd-lt  Ui»»  «»  q««rt>o«» 

'  fTHOSE  who  go  a-borrowtag,  go  a.8orrowing,"  with  the  old 
i  adage:  and  a  wiser  mw  never  came  out  of  the  mouth 
of  experience.    I  have  tested  the  truth  of  this  proverb  since 
my  settlement  in  Canada,  many,  many  times,  to  my  cost; 
«»d  what  emignmt  ha.  noti    So  averse  have  I  ever  been  to 
Uiis  practice,  that  I  would  at  »U  time,  rather  quietly  «ibmlt 
to  a  temporary  inconvenience  than  obtain  any  thing  I  wanted 
in  Uiis  mamier.    I  >«rily  believe  that  a  demon  of  mischief 
presides  over  borrowed  goods,  and  talies  a  wiclced  pleasure  in 
playing  ofTa  thousand  malicious  pranlcs  upon  you  the  moment 
he  enters  your  dwelling.    Plates  and  dishes,  that  had  been 
the  pride  and  ornament  of  their  own  cupboard  for  years^no 
«K)ner  enter  upon  foreign  service  than  they  are  broken ;  ^ 
Blasse.  and  tumblers,  that  have  been  handled  by  a  hundred 
oareles.  wenches  in  safety,  scarcely  pass  into  the  han(b  of 
your  servants  when  they  are  sure  to  tumble  upon  the  floor, 
and  the  accident  turns  out  a  compound  fracture.    If  you  bof 
TOW  a  garment  of  any  kind,  be  sure  that  you  will  tear  it ;  a 
wateh,  that  you  wiU  break  it;  a  jewel,  that  you  wdl  low  »t} 

a  book,  that  it  will  be  stolen  from  you.  There  i.  no  e^  to 
the  trouble  and  vexation  arising  out  of  this  evil  habit  If  yo« 
borrow  a  horre,  and  he  ha.  the  reputation  of  bemg  the  best 


ilO  ■TfTM. 


;,**8aiththeold 
t  of  the  mouth 
i  proverb  rince 
B,  to  my  cost; 
I  ever  been  to 
quietly  submit 
thing  I  wanted 
Lon  of  mischief 
3lced  pleasure  in 
fOM  the  momoit 
u,  that  had  been 
ird  for  years,  no 
re  brolien ;  wine- 
ed  by  a  hundred 
ito  the  hands  of 
)  upon  the  floor, 
ure.    If  you  bof 
a  will  tear  it }  a 
you  will  lose  it ; 
ere  is  no  end  to 
vil  habit    Ifyoa 
[>f  being  the  besk 


Oim  riSST  SSTTLEMKST. 


B6 


behared  animal  in  the  district,  you  no  sooner  become  respon 
sible  for  his  conduct  than  he  loses  his  character.  The  mo 
ment  that  you  attempt  to  drive  him,  he  shows  that  he  has 
a  will  of  his  own,  by  taking  the  reuis  into  his  own  man* 
agement,  and  running  away  in  a  contrary  direction  to  tha 
road  that  you  wished  him  to  travel.  He  never  gives  over  hit 
eccentric  capers  until  he  has  broken  his  own  knees,  and  Uie 
borrowed  carriage  and  harness.  So  anxious  are  you  about 
his  safety,  that  you  have  not  a  moment  to  bestow  upon  your 
own.  And  why  T— the  beast  is  borrowed,  and  you  are  ex> 
pected  to  return  him  in  as  good  condition  as  he  came  to  you. 
But  of  all  evils,  to  borrow  money  is  perhaps  the  vrorst  If 
of  a  friend,  he  ceases  to  be  one  the  moment  you  feel  that 
you  are  bound  to  him  by  the  heavy  Aug  of  obligation.  If  of 
a  usurer,  the  fnterest,  in  this  country,  soon  doubles  the  original 
sum,  and  you  owe  an  increasing  debt,  which  in  time  swallows 
up  all  you  possess. 

When  we  first  came  to  the  colony,  nothing  surprised  me 
more  than  the  extent  to  which  this  pernicious  custom  was 
carried,  both  by  the  native  Canadians,  the  European  settlers, 
and  the  lower  order  of  Americans.  Many  of  the  latter  had 
spied  out  the  goodness  of  the  land,  and  borrowed  various  por- 
tions  of  it,  without  so  much  as  asking  leave  of  the  absentee 
owner.  Unfortunately,  our  new  home  was  surrounded  by 
these  odious  squatters,  whom  we  found  as  ignorant  as  savage^ 
without  their  courtesy  and  kindness. 

The  place  we  first  occupied  was  purchased  of  Mr.  C , 

a  merchant,  who  took  it  in  payment  of  sundry  large  debts 
which  the  owner,  a  New  England  loyalist,  had  been  unablei  to 

settle.    Old  Joe  H ,  the  present  occupant,  had  promised 

to  quit  it  with  his  family,  at  the  commencement  of  sleighing ; 
and  as  the  bargain  was  concluded  in  the  month  of  September, 
acd  w'o  were  mxious  to  plough  for  fall  wheat,  it  was  necessary 


1 

.  .J* 

i 


1. 


Bouasma  it  in  the  bosb 

to  be  upon  the  spot  No  house  was  to  be  foimd  in  theim- 
mediate  neighbUhood.  save  a  smaU  dilapidated  log  tene 
ment,  on  ah  adjoining  farm  (which  w«i  scarcely  rechumed 
from  the  bush)  that  kid  been  some  months  without  an  owner. 
The  merchant  assured  us  that  this  could  be  made  very  oonw 
forteble  until  such  time  as  it  suited  H—  to  remove,  and 
the  owner  was  willing  to  let  us  have  it  for  the  moderatemm 

«rf  four  dollars  a  month. 

T^     to  Mr.  C ^"s  word,  and  being  •rtr««".'"  J" 

land,  we  never  took  the  precaution  to  examine  ttas  debghtfid 
wmlner  residence  before  entering  upon  it,  but  thought  our. 
selves  very  fortunate  in  obtaintog  a  tempor«^  home  so  new 
our  own  property,  the  distance  not  exceeding  half  a  mde.  Ihe 
agreement  was  drawn  up,  and  we  were  told  that  we  «>uld 

take  possesfflon  whenever  it  suited  us.  .   j  v 

The  few  weeks  that  I  had  sojourned  in  the  country  had  by 

no  means  prepossessed  me  in  its  favour.    The  hom^cknes. 
was  sore  upon  me,  and  all  my  solitary  hours  were  spent  m 
tears.    My  whole  soul  yielded  itself  up  to  a  strong  and  over- 
powering  grief.    One  simple  word  dwelt  for  ever  m  my 
heartT^d  swelled  it  to  bursting-"  Home !"    I  repeated  . 
waking  a  thousand  times  a  day,  and  my  last  prayer  before  I 
s«ik  to  sleep  was  still  "Home!    Oh,  that  I  could  return^ if 
only  to  die  at  home !"    And  nightly  I  did  return ;  my  feet 
«Jn  trod  the  daisied  meadows  of  England ;  the  song  of  her 
tods  was  m  my  ears;  I  wept  wiA  delight  to  find  myself 
once  more  wandering  beneath  the  fragrant  shade  of  her  green 
hedge-rows ;  and  I  awoke  to  weep  in  earnest  when  I  found  h 
but  a  dream.    But  this  is  aU  digression,  and  has  nothing  to 
do  with  our  unseen  dwelling.    The  reader  must  bear  with  me 
In  my  fits  of  melancholy,  and  take  me  as  I  am. 

It  was  the  aad  September  that  we  left  the  steamboat 
Natal,  to  take  possession  of  our  new  abode.    During  tin 


OUS  FIRST  SBTTLSMENT. 


t!f* 


in  theinv 
log  tene 
redumed 

)  an  owner, 
▼ery  oofa- 

Bxaore,  and 

iderate  mum 

igenin  the 
is  delightful 
bought  our* 
)me  80  near 
a  mile.  The  ■ 
kat  we  could 

intry  had  by 
Dm»ackne8S 
ere  spent  in 
ing  and  over- 
eyer  in  my 
I  repeated  it 
ayer  before  I 
idd  return,  if 
am;  my  feet 
)  song  of  her 
(  find  myself 
B  of  her  green 
hen  I  found  it 
IS  nothing  to 
hear  with  me 

he  steamboat 
.    During  tha 


thn«  weeks  we  had  sojourned  at ,  I  had  not  seen  a  drop 

of  rain,  and  I  began  to  think  that  Ae  fine  weather  wodd  last 
for  ever :  but  this  eventful  day  arose  in  clouds.  Moodie  had 
hired  a  covered  carriage  to  convey  the  baby,  the  seivMt. 
maid,  and  myself  to  the  farm,  as  our  driver  prognosticated  a 
wetday;  while  he  foUowed  with  Tom  Wilson  and  the  teams 

that  conveyed  our  luggage.  .^^t^ 

The  scenery  through  which  we  were  passmg  was  90  new  to 

me,  ao  unlike  any  thing  that  I  had  ever  beheld  before,  that  m 
spite  of  its  monotonous  character,  it  won  me  from  my  mel- 
Laoly,  and  I  began »»  look  about  me  with  ^-^^^^^  "^ 
terest  Not  so  my  English  servant,  who  dedared  that  the 
woods  were  fHghtful  to  look  upon;  the*  ^^^^^^T"^ 
only  fit  for  wad  beast*;  that,  she  h»t«d  it  with  i^  her  heart 
and  soul,  and  would  go  back  as  soon  as  she  was  able. 

About  a  mUe  fh)m  the  place  of  our  desUnation  the  ram  be- 
gan  to  fall  m  torrents,  and  the  air,  which  ^y^^'^y^' 
Hpring  morning,  turned  as  chilly  as  -^t  of  November 
day     HamuOi  shivered;  the  baby  cried   and  I  drew  my 
summer  shawl  a-  closely  round  as  possible,  to  protect  her 
ST^^dep  change  in  ovr  hitherto  delightlld  temp^ 
tare.    Just  then,  the  carriage  turned  into  a  narrow,  steep 
nath,  overiiung  mth  lofty  woods,  and  after  labourmg  up  it 
S^S'c^nside^ble  difficult;,  «id  at  the  ^^o^^^f^Z 
««ks,  it  brought  us  at  length  to  a  «M»ky  upland  deanng, 
ZSlly  coveL  with  a  second  growth  of  timber,  «»d  sur- 
rounded  on  all  irides  by  the  dark  forest.  ^   ,   « 

"Ipie-s"  quoth  <m  Yankee  driver,  "that  at  the  bottom 
of  this 'ere  swell.  youHl  find  yourself  to  *««;;  and  plungijjl 
Into  a  short  path  cat  through  the  wood,  he  pomted  to  a  nd^ 

erablehut,aVthe bottom  <>' «*  ^-f  ^^"^^  T^m 
whip,  e«daimed, -TIB  a  «nart  locatiop  that.    Iwidiyov 

Britishers  may  enjoy  it." 


.'I 


68 


ROUOHINO  IT  IN  TBS  BUSB. 


I  gazed  upon  the  place  in  perfect  dismay,  for  I  had  neru 
•em  such  a  shed  called  a  house  before.  "  You  must  be  mi» 
taken ;  that  is  not  a  house,  but  a  cattle-shed,  or  pig-sty." 

The  man  turned  his  knowing,  keen  eye  upon  me,  and 
smiled,  half-humorously,  half-maliciously,  as  he  said, 

"  You  were  raised  in  the  old  country,  I  guess ;  you  have 
much  to  learn,  and  more,  perhaps,  than  you'll  like  to  know, 
before  the  winter  is  over." 

I  was  perfectly  bewildered — I  could  only  stai-e  at  the 
place,  with  my  eyes  swimming  in  tears ;  but  as  the  horses 
plunged  down  into  the  broken  hollow,  my  attention  was 
drawn  from  my  new  residence  to  the  perils  which  endangered 
life  and  limb  at  every  step.  The  driver,  however,  was  well 
used  to  such  roads,  and,  steering  us  dexterously  between  the 
black  stumps,  at  length  drove  up,  not  to  the  door,  for  there 
was  none  to  the  house,  but  to  the  open  space  from  which  that 
absent  but  very  necessary  appendage  had  been  removed. 
Three  young  steers  and  two  heifers,  which  the  driver  pro- 
ceeded to  drive  out,  were  quietly  reposing  upon  the  fioor.  A 
few  strokes  of  his  whip,  and  a  loud  burst  of  gratuitous  curses, 
soon  effected  an  ejectment ;  and  I  dismounted,  and  took  pos- 
session of  this  untenable  tenement.  Moodie  was  not  yet  in 
sight  with  the  teams.  I  begged  the  man  to  stay  imtil  hu 
arrived,  as  I  feli  terrified  at  being  left  alone  in  this  wild, 
strange-looking  place.  He  laughed,  as  well  he  might,  at  onr 
fears,  and  stiid  that  he  had  a  long  way  to  go,  and  must  be 
off;  then,  cracking  his  whip,  and  nodding  to  the  girl,  who  was 
crying  aloud,  he  went  his  way,  and  Hannah  and  myself  were 
left  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  dirty  floor. 

The  prospect  was  indeed  dreary.  Without,  pouring  rain ; 
within,  a  fireless  hearth ;  a  room  with  but  one  window,  and 
that  containing  only  one  whole  pane  of  glass ;  not  an  artide 
of  furniture  to  be  seen,  si^ve  an  old  painted  pine-wood  cradl«^ 


and 
pro 
att 


The 

mal 

up  I 

thai 

fire 

anc 

ui< 

clo 

an( 

th« 

Th 

up 


of 

tei 
th< 
tu 


OUR  FIRST  SSTTLBMENT. 


6» 


I  had  nev«i 

must  be  nu» 

pig-sty." 
lupon  me,  and 
I  said, 
ess ;  you  have 

like  to  know, 

'  stai-e  at  the 

as  the  horses 

attention  was 

ich  endangered 

irever,  was  well 

y  between  the 

door,  for  there 

i-om  which  that 

been  removed. 

the  driver  pro> 

m  the  fioor.    A 

'atuitous  curses, 

d,  and  took  pos- 

was  not  yet  in 

)  stay  imtil  hu 

le  in  this  wild, 

lie  might,  at  oar 

>,  and  must  be 

le  girl,  who  was 

ud  myself  were 

t,  pouring  rain ; 
ne  window,  and 
;  not  an  artide 
Ine-wood  cradle^ 


which  had  been  left  there  by  some  freak  of  fortune.  This, 
turned  upon  its  side,  served  us  for  a  seat,  and  there  we  impa- 
tiently awaited  the  arrival  of  Moodie,  Wilson,  and  a  man 
whom  the  former  had  hired  that  momuig  to  assist  on  the 
farm.  Where  they  were  all  to  be  stowed  might  have  puz- 
tied  a  more  sagacious  brain  than  mine.  It  is  true  there  was 
a  loft,  but  I  could  see  no  way  of  reaching  it,  for  ladder  there 
was  none,  so  we  amused  ourselves,  while  waiting  for  the  com- 
ing of  the  party,  by  abusing  the  place,  the  country,  and  our 
own  dear  selves,  for  our  folly  in  coming  to  it 

Now,  when  not  only  reconciled  to  Canada,  but  loving  it, 
and  feeling  a  deep  interest  in  its  present  welfare,  and  the  &ur 
prospect  of  its  future  greatness,  I  often  look  back  and  laugh 
at  the  feelings  with  which  I  then  regarded  this  noble  country. 

When  things  come  to  the  worst,  they  generally  mend. 
The  males  of  our  party  no  sooner  arrived  than  they  set  about 
making  things  more  comfortable.  James,  our  servant,  pulled 
up  some  of  the  decayed  stumps,  with  which  the  small  clearing 
that  surrounded  the  shanty  was  thickly  covered,  and  made  a 
fire,  and  Hannah  roused  herself  from  the  stupor  of  despair, 
and  seizcid  the  corn-broom  from  the  t^p  '^f  the  loaded  wagon, 
uid  began  to  sweep  the  house,  raising  such  an  intolerable 
cloud  of  dust  thbt  I  was  glad  to  throw  my  doak  over  my  head, 
and  run  out  of  doors,  to  avoid  sufibcation.  Then  commenced 
the  awfiil  bustle  of  unloading  the  two  heavily-loaded  wagons. 
The  small  space  within  the  house  was  soon  entirely  blocked 
up  with  trunks  and  packages  of  all  descriptions.  There  was 
scarcely  room  to  move,  without  stumbling  over  some  article 
of  household  stuff. 

Hie  rain  poured  in  at  the  open  door,  beat  in  at  the  shat- 
tered window,  and  dropped  upon  our  heads  from  the  holes  in 
the  roof.  The  wind  blew  keenly  through  a  thousand  aper 
tures  in  the  log  walls ;  and  nothing  could  exceed  the  unooin* 


60 


BOUQHISO  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


r4** 


t" 


fortableness  of  our  eituation.  For  a  long  time  th»l)Ox  whick 
contained  a  hammer  and  nails  was  not  to  be  found.  At 
length  Hannah  discovered  it,  tied  up  vtith  some  bedding  which 
she  was  opening  out  in  order  to  dry.  I  fortunately  spied  the 
door  lying  among  some  old  boards  at  the  baclc  of  the  house, 
and  Moodie  immediately  commenced  fitting  it  to  its  place. 
This,  once  accomplished,  was  a  great  addition  to  our  comfort. 
We  then  nailed  a  piece  of  white  cloth  entirely  over  the  broken 
window,  which,  without  diminishing  the  light,  kept  out  the 
rain.  James  constructed  a  ladder  out  of  the  old  bits  ^i 
boards,  and  Tom  Wilson  assisted  him  in  stowing  the  luggage 
away  in  the  loft. 

But  what  has  this  picture  of  misery  and  discomfort  to  do 
with  borrowing  1  Patience,  my  dear,  good  friends ;  I  will 
tell  you  all  about  it  by  and  by. 

While  we  were  all  busily  employed — even  the  poor  baby, 
who  was  lying  upon  a  pillow  in  the  old  cradle,  trying  the 
strength  of  her  lungs,  and  not  a  little  irritated  that  no  one 
was  at  leisure  to  regard  her  laudable  endeavours  to  make  her- 
self heard — the  door  was  suddenly  pushed  open,  and  the 
apparition  of  a  woman  squeezed  itself  into  the  crowded  room. 
I  left  off  arranging  the  furniture  of  a  bed,  that  had  been  just 
put  up  in  a  corner,  to  meet  my  unexpected,  and  at  that  mo> 
ment,  not  very  welcome  guest.  Her  whole  appearance  was 
so  extraordinary  that  I  felt  quite  at  a  loss  how  to  address 
her. 

Imagine  a  girl  of  seventeen  or  eighteen  years  of  age,  with 
sharp,  knowing-looking  features,  a  forward,  impudent  car- 
riage,  and  a  pert,  flippant  voice,  standing  upon  one  of  the 
trunks,  and  sur.  sying  all  our  proceedings  in  the  most  imper- 
tinent manner.  The  creature  was  dressed  in  a  ragged,  dirty 
purple  stuff  gown,  cut  very  low  in  the  neck,  with  an  old  red 
Cotton   handkerchief  tied   over  her  head  :    her  uncombed. 


Unglt 
"late 
in  hei 


Mayl 


fathe 

»/?t  0 
neve 


biit- 

u 

glish 


OUR  FIRST  SETTLEMENT. 


61 


te  th»box  whick 
be  found.  At 
le  bedding  which 
mately  spied  the 
wk  of  the  house, 
5  it  to  its  place. 
n  to  our  comfort. 
'  over  the  broken 
ht,  kept  out  the 
the  old  bits  if 
wing  the  luggage 

discomfort  to  do 
d  friends ;  I  will 

en  the  poor  baby, 
cradle,  trying  the 
tated  that  no  one 
ours  to  make  her- 
id  open,  and  the 
he  crowded  room, 
that  had  been  just 
1,  and  at  that  mo- 
le appearance  was 
»  how  to  address 

years  of  age,  with 
rd,  impudent  car- 

upon  one  of  the 
in  the  most  imper- 
in  a  ragged,  dirty 
ck,  with  an  old  red 

;    her  uncoTttbed. 


Ungled  locks  falling  over  her  thin,  inquisitive  face,  m  a 
-uite  of  perfect  nature.  Her  legs  and  feet  were  bare,  and, 
in  her  coarse,  dirty  red  hands,  she  swung  to  and  fro  an  empty 

Class  decanter. 

"  What  can  she  wantl"  I  asked  myself.    «  What  a  strange 

creature !" 

And  there  she  stood,  staring  at  me  in  the  most  unceremo- 
nious  manner,  her  keen  black  eyes  glancing  obliquely  to  every 
corner  of  the  room,  which  she  examined  with  critical  exact- 

D6SS 

Before  I  could  speak  to  her,  she  commenced  the  conversa. 
tion  by  drawling  through  her  nose, 

"  Well,  I  guess  you  are  fixing  here." 

I  thought  she  had  come  to  offer  her  services;  and  I  told 
h.!r  thnt  1  did  not  want  a  girl,  for  I  had  brought  one  out  with 

«  How !"  responded  the  creature,  "  I  hope  you  don't  take 
me  for  a  help.  I'd  have  you  to  know  that  I'm  as  good  a  lady 
as  yourself.  No ;  I  just  stepped  over  to  see  what  was  gomg 
ri,.  I  seed  the  teams  pass  our'n  about  noon,  and  I  says  to 
»Kther,  "fhem  strangers  are  cum;  I'll  go  and  look  arter 
♦.hem.'  'Yes,'  says  he,  'do— and  take  the  decanter  along. 
Maybe  they'll  want  one  to  put  their  whiskey  in.'  '  I'm  goin 
to,'  says  I ;  so  I  cum  across  with  it,  an'  here  it  is.  BuU 
nind— don't  break  it— 'tis  the  only  one  we  have  to  hum;  and 
father  says  'tis  so  mean  to  drink  out  of  green  glass." 

My  surprise  5ncr^.ised  every  minute.  It  seemed  such  a^ 
»/?t  of  disinterested  generosity  thus  to  anticipate  wants  we  had 
never  thought  of.     I  was  regularly  taken  in. 

"My  good  gu-l,"  I  began,  "this  is  really  very  kmd— 

"  Now,  don't  go  to  call  me  'gal'-  f\nd  pass  ofl  yom-  Hjo, 
glish  airs  on  us.    We  are  genuine  Yankees,  and  think  oui 


M 
% 

t 

,-3 

'a 


02 


Bouamm  it  in  the  buhh. 


i  - 


I  am  « 


selves  as  good-yes,  a  great  deal  better  than  you, 

young  lady."  ^    .  u       * 

"Indeed!"  said  I,  striving  to  repress  my  astonishmeiit. 
«I  am  a  stranger  in  the  country,  and  my  acquaintance  TfUii 
Canadian  ladies  and  gentlemen  is  very  small.  I  did  not  me«n 
to  offend  you  by  using  the  term  girl ;  I  ii^as  gomg  to  assure 
you  tiiat  we  had  no  need  of  the  decanter.^  We  have  botUes 
of  our  own—and  we  don't  drink  whiskey." 

"How!  Not  drink  whiskey?  Why,  you  dont  say! 
How  ignorant  you  must  be !  Maybe  they  have  no  whiskey 
in  the  old  country?" 

"Yes  we  have;  br.i  it  is  not  like  the  Canadian  whiskey. 
But,  pray  take  the  decant^^r  home  again-I  am  afraid  Uiat  it 
will  get  broken  in  this  confusiou."  ,  .    „     j 

"No  no ;  father  told  me  to  leave it-and  there  it  u ;  and 
she  planted  it  resolutely  down  on  the  trunk.  «'You  will  hud 
a  use  for  it  till  you  have  unpacked  your  own." 

:^inc  that  she  was  determined  to  leave  the  bottle,  I  said 
V.0  more  abo«t  it,  but  asked  her  to  teU  me  where  Ae  well 

was  to  be  found.  ^  « wi.„ 

«  The  well !"  she  repeated  after  me,  with  a  sneer.  W  ao 
thinks  of  digging  wells  when  they  can  get  plenty  of  wa«*r 
from  the  creek  %  There  is  a  fine  water-privilege  not  a  stones- 
throw  from  the  door,"  and,  jumping  off  the  box  .he  dis-?- 
peared  as  abruptly  as  she  had  entered.  We  all  looked  «t 
each  other;  Tom  Wilson  was  highly  amused,  and  laughed 
until  he  held  his  sides. 

"What  tempted  her  to  bring  this  empty  bottle  here? 
said  Moodie.    "  It  is  all jm  excuse ;  the  visit,  Tom,  was  me«at 

^°'«  You'U  know  more  about  it  in  a  few  days,"  said  James 
looking  up  from  his  work.  "  That  bottle  is  not  brought  hwe, 
for  naught." 


pres 
folk 
But, 
and 


the 


,^,tm0^fmiipffmi^mH^miymtm 


OUR  FIRST  SETTLEMENT. 


(is 


you.    I  am  t 

astonishmttit 
juaintance  iviUi 
I  did  not  mwn 
ig  to  assure 
Te  have  bottles 

]rou  don't  say! 
are  no  whiskey 

madian  whiskey, 
tn  afraid  that  it 

there  it  is ;"  and 
"You  wiU  find 

n 

the  bottle,  I  said 
i  where  the  wdl 

I  a  sneer.  "  Wlio 
;  plenty  of  wat»r 
ege  not  a  stono'a- 
le  box,  bhe  diart|>> 
Ve  all  looked  at 
ised,  and  laughed 

pty  bottle  here  V 
,  Tom,  waH  meaiat 

lays,"  said  James 
not  brought  hexei 


I  could  not  unravel  the  mystery,  and  thought  no  more  about 
it,  until  it  was  again  brought  to  my  recollection  by  the  daio* 
sel  herself. 

Our  united  eiTorts  had  effected  a  complete  transformation 
in  our  uncouth  dwelling.  Sleeping-berths  had  been  partitioned 
off  for  the  men;  shelves  had  been  put  up  for  the  accommo* 
dation  of  books  and  crockery,  a  carpet  covered  the  floor,  and 

the  chairs  and  tables  we  had  brought  fh)m gave  an  ahr 

of  comfort  to  the  place,  which,  on  the  first  view  of  it,  I  deemed 
impossible.  My  husband,  Mr.  Wilson,  and  James,  had 
walked  over  to  inspect  the  farm,  and  I  was  sitting  at  the 
table  at  work,  the  baby  creeping  upon  the  floor,  and  Han* 
nah  preparing  dinner.  The  sun  shone  warm  and  bright,  and 
the  open  door  admitted  a  current  of  fresh  air,  which  tempered 
the  heat  of  the  fire. 

"  Well,  1  guess  you  look  smart,"  said  the  Yankee  damsel, 
presenting  herself  once  more  before  me.  "  You  old  country 
folks  are  so  stiff,  you  must  have  every  thing  nice,  or  you  iVet. 
But,  then,  you  can  easily  do  it ;  you  have  atacks  of  money ; 
and  you  can  fix  every  thing  right  off  with  money." 

"  Pray  take  a  seat,"  and  I  offered  her  a  chair, "  and  be  kind 
enough  to  tell  me  your  name.  I  suppose  you  must  live  in 
the  neighboiu*hood,  although  I  cannot  perceive  any  dwelling 
near  us." 

"  My  name  J    So  you  want  to  know  ray  name.    I  am't 

ashamed   of  my  name;   'tis   Emily  S .     I  am  eldest 

daughter  to  the  gentleman  who  owns  this  house." 

"  What  must  the  father  be,"  thought  1,  "  if  he  resemble* 
the  yoimg  ktdy,  his  daughter  ?" 

Imagine  a  young  lady,  dressed  in  ragged  petticoat-s,  through 
whose  yavming  rents  peeped  forth,  fi"om  time  to  time,  her 
bare  red  knees,  with  unwmbed  elf-locks,  and  a  face  and  hands 
tiutt  looked  as  if  they  had  been  unwashed  fur  a  month — who 


d^ 


A 


■^ 


> 


1 


.-■JKB^'" 


04  Bouomso  IT  m  ths  hvse. 

did  not  know  A  from  B,  and  de»piHed  those  who  did.  WhiU 
Sese  reflections,  combined  with  a  thousand  lud^crou.  in«««. 
were  flitting  through  my  mind,  my  strange  visitor  suddenly 

"""^^S^e  you  done  with  that  'ere  decanter  I  brought  ac«)-i 

''*'!^^V^ !  I  have  no  occasion  for  it."  I  rose,  took  it  from 
the  shelf,  and  placed  it  in  her  hand. 

« I  giess  you  won't  return  it  empty ;  that  would  be  mean, 
fiither  says.    He  wants  it  filled  with  whiskey." 

The  mystery  was  solved,  the  riddle  made  cl^r.  I  ^tdd 
contain  my  gravity  no  longer,  but  burst  into  a  hearty  fit  of 
Sughter,inThichIwas  joined  by  Hannah.  0.^  youj^  lady 
wl!f  mortally  offended;  she  tossed  the  decanter  from  hand  to 
hand,  and  glared  at  us  with  her  tiger-like  eyes. 

MTou  thmk  yourselves  smart  I     Why  do  you  laugh  m 

"^'"eSI  me-but  youhavesuch  an  odd  way  of  bonowing 

that  I  cannot  help  it.  This  bottle,  it  seems,  was  brought  over 
foryourownconvenience,notformine.  I  am  sorry  to  disap. 
Doint  you,  but  1  have  no  wluskey." 

"I  gull  spirits  wUl  do  as  well ;  I  know  there  »  some  m 
that  keg,  for  I  smells  it."  ^ 

"  It  contains  rum  for  the  workmen. 

"Better  stUl.  I  calculate  when  you've  been  here  a  few 
months,  you'll  be  too  knowing  to  give  rum  to  your  help^ 
But  2  «,«ntry  folks  are  all  fools,  and  that's  Ae  reajon  they 
get  so  easily  sucked  in,  and  be  so  soon  wound  up.  Cum  fiU 
fhe  bottle,  and  don't  b.  stingy.  In  this  country  we  all  hve 
by  bonding.    If  you  want  any  thing,  why  just  send  and  bor- 

row  from  us."  ^  ,  , ■ 

Thinking  that  this  might  be  the  custom  of  the  counfa^  I 
hMtened  to  fiU  the  decanter, hoping  that  I  might  getahtU. 


tk 


,    While 
ousimagea, 
Itor  suddenly 

ought  aoroMt 

,  took  it  from 

9uld  be  mean, 

ilear.  I  could 
hearty  fit  of 

ur  young  lady 
from  hand  to 

you  laugh  in 

y  of  borrowing 
s  brought  over 
.  sorry  to  disap- 

lere  is  some  in 


Ben  here  a  few 
to  your  help& 
he  reason  they 
up.  Cum,  fill 
Ty  we  all  live 
t  send  and  hor- 

the  country,  I 
ght  get  a  littl* 


OtrX  FIRST  SBTTLBMBNT.  61 

new  milk  for  the  poor  weaning  child  in  return ;  but  when  I 
asked  my  liberal  visitor  if  she  kept  cows,  and  would  lend  me 
a  little  new  milk  for  the  baby,  she  burst  out  into  high  disdain, 
"  Milk !  Lend  milk  7  I  guess  milk  in  the  fall  is  worth  a 
York  shilling  a  quart.     I  cannot  sell  you  a  drop  under." 

This  was  a  wicked  piece  of  extortion,  as  the  same  article  in 
the  towns,  where,  of  course,  it  was  in  greater  request,  only 
brought  threepence  the  quart. 

"  If  you'll  pay  me  fur  it,  I'll  bring  you  some  to-morrow. 
But  mind — cash  down." 

"  And  when  do  you  mean  to  return  the  rum  V  I  said,  with 
some  asperity. 

"  When  father  goes  to  the  creek.**    This  was  the  name 

given  by  my  neighbours  to  the  village  of  P ,  distant  about 

four  miles. 

Day  after  d»y  I  was  tormented  by  this  importunate  crea- 
ture ;  she  borrowed  of  me  tea,  sugar,  candles,  starqh,  blueing, 
irons,  pots,  bowls, — in  short,  every  article  in  common  domes- 
tic use, — while  it  was  with  the  utmost  difficulty  we  could  get 
them  returned.  Articles  of  food,  such  as  tea  and  sugar,  or 
of  convenience,  like  candles,  starch,  and  soap,  she  never 
dreamed  of  being  required  at  her  hands.  This  method  of 
living  upon  their  neighbours  is  a  most  convenient  one  to  un- 
principled people,  as  it  does  not  involve  the  penalty  of  stealing ; 
and  they  can  keep  the  goods  without  the  unpleasant  necessity 
of  returning  them,  or  feel  the  moral  obligation  of  being  grate- 
ful for  their  usu.     Living  eight  miles  fix>m ^  I  found  these 

constant  encroadmients  a  heavy  burden  on  our  poor  purse ; 
and  being  ignorant  of  the  country,  and  residing  in  such  • 
lonely,  out-of-the-way  place,  surrounded  by  these  savages,  I 
was  really  afraid  of  denying  their  requests. 

The  very  day  our  new  plough  came  home,  the  fhther  of 
tfds  bright  damsel,  who  went  by  the  familiar  and  unenvwblc 


„J 


06  Rouonmo  it  in  ths  Busm 

title  of  Old  Satan,  came  ovei  to  borrow  it  (though  we  after 
wards  found  out  that  he  had  it  good  one  of  his  own).  The 
land  had  never  been  broliou  vr,  and  was  full  of  rocks  and 
■tumps,  and  he  was  anxious  to  save  his  own  from  injury;  the 
consequence  was  that  the  borrowed  implement  came  home 
unfit  for  use,  just  at  the  very  time  that  we  wanted  to  plough 
for  fall  w'leat.  The  same  happened  to  a  spade  and  trowel, 
bought  in  order  to  plaster  the  house.  Satan  asked  the  loan 
of  them  for  one  hour  for  the  same  purpose,  and  we  never  saw 
them  again. 

The  daughter  came  one  morning,  as  usual,  on  one  of  these 
swindling  expeditions,  and  demanded  of  me  the  loan  of  some 
/?««  alack.  Not  knowing  what  she  meant  by  /n«  tlack,  and 
weary  of  her  importunities,  I  said  1  had  none.  She  went 
away  in  a  rage.  Shortly  after  she  came  again  for  some  pep. 
per.  I  was  at  work,  and  my  work-box  was  open  upon  the 
table,  well  stored  with  threads  and  spools  of  all  descriptions. 
Miss  Isatan  cast  her  hawk's  eye  into  it,  and  burst  out  in  her 
usual  rude  manner, 

"  I  guess  you  told  me  a  tarnation  big  lie  the  other  day." 
Unaccustomed  to  such  language,  I  rose  from  my  seat,  and 
pointing  to  the  door,  told  her  to  walk  out,  as  I  did  not  choose 
to  be  insulted  in  my  own  house. 

"  Your  house  I  I'm  sure  it's  father's,"  returned  the  incor. 
ri^ble wretch.  "You  told  me  that  you  had  no  Jin«  $laek, 
and  you  have  8tack$  of  it." 

«  What  is  fine  slack  1"  said  I,  very  pettishly. 
«  The  stuff  that's  wound  upon  these  'ere  pieces  of  wood," 
pouncing  as  she  spoke  upon  one  of  my  most  serviceabto 

qwols. 

« I  cannot  give  you  that ;  I  want  it  myself." 

« I  didn't  ask  you  tc  (jive  it    I  only  wants  to  borrow  ft 

tin  fiither  goes  to  tibe  creek." 


lar 


eT( 


[lougli  we  after 
his  own).  The 
pi  of  rocks  and 
rom  injury;  the 
pt  came  home 
Inted  to  })lough 
le  and  trowel, 
asked  the  loan 
d  we  never  saw 

on  one  of  these 
le  loan  of  some 
fint  alack,  and 

one.    She  went 

n  for  some  pep* 
open  upon  the 

all  descriptions. 

}urst  out  in  her 

he  other  day." 
>m  my  seat,  and 
I  did  not  choose 

turned  the  ineot- 
d  no  Jitu  »laekf 


rieces  of  wood," 
lost  serviceabls 


Qts  to  borrow  it 


OITM  FIRST  SSTTLSMVNT. 

"  I  wish  he  would  make  haste,  then,  as  I  want  a  number 
if  things  which  you  have  borrowed  of  mc,  and  which  I  cannot 
lorger  do  without" 

She  gave  me  a  knowing  look,  and  carried  off  my  apool  in 
triumph. 

I  happened  to  mention  the  manner  in  which  I  was  con- 
stantly annoyed  by  these  people,  to  a  worthy  English  farmer 
who  resided  near  us ;  and  he  fell  a-laugh!ng,  and  told  me  that 
I  did  not  know  the  Canadian  Yankees  as  well  as  he  did,  or  I 
should  not  be  troubled  with  them  long. 

"  The  best  way,"  says  he,  •'  to  get  ril  of  them,  is  to  ask 
them  sharply  what  they  want ;  and  if  they  give  you  no  satis- 
factory answer,  order  them  to  leave  the  housr  it  I  believe 
I  can  put  you  in  a  better  way  still.  Buy  s  ^.mall  artide 
of  them,  and  pay  them  a  trifle  over  tiie  price,  and  tell  them 
to  bring  the  change.  I  will  lay  my  life  upon  it  that  it  will  be 
long  before  they  trouble  you  again." 

I  was  impatient  to  test  the  eflicaoy  of  his  scheme.  Tliat 
very  afternoon  Miss  Satan  brought  me  a  plate  of  butter  for 
sale.  The  price  was  three  and  ninepenoo ;  twice  the  sum,  by 
the  by,  that  it  was  worth. 

"  I  have  no  change,"  ^ving  her  a  dollar ;  **  but  you  can 
bring  it  me  to-morrow." 

Oh,  blessed  experiment !  for  the  value  of  one  quarterdo]- 
lar  I  got  rid  of  this  dishonest  girl  for  ever ;  rather  than  pay 
me,  she  never  entered  the  house  again.  About  a  month  after 
tiiis,  I  was  busy  making  an  apple-pie  in  the  kitchen.  A  oadar- 
erous-looking  woman,  very  long-fiu»d  and  witch-like,  popped 
her  ill>k  )king  visage  into  the  door,  and  drawled  throu^  her 
nose, 

"  Do  you  want  to  buy  a  rooster  /" 

Now,  the  sucking-pigs  with  which  we  had  been  regaled" 
every  day  for  three  weeks  at  the  tavern,  were  called  rotultnf 


i 


.'!! 


61  .    ROUOHme  JT  IN  THK  BUSB. 

•nd  not  undentanding  the  fkmiliar  phranea  of  the  country, 
thought  she  had  a  ■uoking-pig  to  mIL 

•*  hit  a  good  one  r 

"  I  guess  'tis." 

"  What  do  you  ask  for  it  T 

"  Two  Yorker!*." 

"  That  ia  very  ck  ap,  il'  it  is  any  weight.    1  don't  like 
under  ten  or  twelve  pounds." 

"  Ten  or  twelve  pounds !  Why,  woman,  what  do  you 
uieanl    Would  you  expect  a  rooster  to  be  bigger  nor  a 

turkey  1" 

We  stared  at  each  other.    There  was  evidently  sorne  mis- 

conception  on  my  part 

"  Bring  the  roaster  up ;  and  if  I  like  it,  I  will  buy  it, 
though  I  must  confess  that  I  am  not  very  fond  of  roast  pig." 

"  Do  you  call  this  a  pig  V  said  my  she-merchant,  drawing 
a  fine  game-cock  from  undt>r  her  doak. 

I  laughed  heartily  at  my  mistake,  as  I  paid  her  dcro  the 
money  for  the  bonny  bird.  This  little  matter  settled,  I 
thought  she  would  toke  her  departure;  but  that  rooster 
proved  the  dearest  fowl  to  me  that  ever  was  bought 

«  Do  you  keep  baoky  and  snuff  here  1"  says  she,  adeling 

doi!  ixp  to  me. 

*  We  make  no  vm  of  those  urtiolw." 

"  How  I    Not  use  backy  and  snuff  1    That's  oncommon." 

She  paused,  then  added  in  a  mysterious,  confidential  tone, 

"  1  want  to  ask  you  how  your  tea-caddy  stands  1" 

« It  stands  in  the  cupboard,"  said  I,  wondering  what  all 

this  might  mean. 

"  I  know  that ;  but  have  you  any  tea  to  spare  1" 

I  now  began  to  suspect  what  sort  of  a  custoraor  the 

■trangcrwas.  ^ 

"  Oh,  you  want  to  borrow  some  ?    I  have  n<me  to  spare. 


the  oountrj, 


don't  like  (Imbi 

,  what  do  you 
B  bigger  nor  » 

mUy  •oTT'e  mi*- 

,  I  will  buy  it, 
1  of  roast  pig." 
iTchant,  drawing 

d  her  do'vn  the 

latter  settled,  I 

ut  that  rooster 

bought 

tys  she,  iddeling 


at*8  onoommon." 
Donfidential  tone, 
lands  r 
indering  what  all 

parel" 
a  customer  the 

e  n<me  to  spare." 


i ' 


mw  -.■,!uj^I.<jan".*iii'Afa»a^-^  vsimmw  i;r>w.wnw-.XiJJiiwm» 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


* 


1.0    if  1^  ■ 


2.5 


I.I 


11.25 


^m 


12.2 


u  m 

m 

IS! 

lit 


lAO 


Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


I 


2.0 


U   il.6 


23  WBT  MAIN  STRUT 

WIBSTiR.N.Y.  145M> 

(716)t72-4S03 


-^ 


s' 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/iCIVIH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


\ 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  da  microreproductions  historiquas 


SSSffl! 


^iU,  ... 


-VM»'iH<™ 


OUR  FIRST  8ETTLBMEST.  W 

«\ou  don't  aay  so.  Well,  now,  that',  stingy,  r  newr 
•sked  any  thing  of  you  before.  I  am  poor,  and  you  are  noh; 
besides,  I'm  troubled  so  with  the  headache,  and  nothmg  does 
me  any  good  but  a  cup  of  strong  tea." 

«  The  money  I  have  just  given  you  will  buy  a  quarter  of 

a  pound  of  the  best"  . 

« I  guess  that  isn't  mine.  The  fowl  belonged  to  my  neigh- 
bour. She's  sick;  and  I  promised  to  sell  it  for  h«; tobuy 
some  physio.  Money  l"  she  added,  in  a  ooasing  tone, «  Wbere 
should  I  get  moneyl  Lord  bless  you!  people  in  this  country 
have  no  money,  and  those  who  come  out  wiA  pdes  of  it, 

soonloseit.    But  Emily  S told  me  that  you  are  n^on 

rich,  and  draw  your  money  from  the  old  country.    Ho  1 
guess  you  can  well  afford  to  lend  a  neighbour  a  spoonftd  of 

tea." 

"Neighbour I  Where  do  you  live,  and  what  is  your 

«  My  name  is  Betty  Fyiv-old  Betty  Fye ;  I  hve  in  the 
loa  shanty  over  the  creek,  at  the  back  of  your'n.  The  fcm 
belongs  to  my  eldest  son.  Pm  a  widow  with  twelve  sons; 
laid  'tis hard  to  scratch  along." 

«« Do  you  swear  r  , 

"Swear!  What  harm  1  It  eases  one's  mind  when  ones 
vexed.  Every  body  swears  in  this  country.  My  boys  all 
swear  like  Sam  Hill ;  and  I  used  to  swear  mighty  big  oatha 
tOl  about  a  month  ago,  when  the  Methody  parson  told  me 
that  if  I  did  not  leave  H  off  1  should  go  to  a  tomatlon  bad 
piaoe ;  so  I  dropped  some  of  the  worst  of  them." 

"You  would  do  wisely  to  drop  the  rest;  women  nevw 

■wear  in  my  country  " 

"  WeU,  you  don't  sav !    I  always  heer'd  they  wwe  very. 
Wnonrnt    WUl  you  lead  me  the  tear  ^ 

The  woman  was  ruoh  an  orijM  «1»^  *  >^ '*'''''**  *• 


70 


HOUOHINa  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


wanted.    As  she  was  going  of!^  she  took  up  one  of  the  apples 
I  was  peeling. 

**  I  guess  you  have  a  fine  orchard  1" 

"  They  say  the  best  in  the  district" 

« We  have  no  orchard  to  hum,  and  I  guess  youTl  want 

sorce." 

"  Sarce!    What  is  earcel" 

"Not  know  what  saroe  is  1  You  are  dever!  Sarce  is 
apples  cut  up  and  dried,  to  make  into  pies  in  the  wmter.  Now 
do  you  comprehend  1" 

I  nodded. 

"  Well,  I  was  going  to  say  that  I  have  no  apples,  and  that 
you  have  a  tarnation  big  few  of  them ;  and  if  you'U  give  me 
twenty  bushels  of  your  best  apples,  and  find  me  with  half  a 
pound  of  coaise  thread  to  string  them  upon,  I  will  make  you 
•  barrel  of  sarce  on  shares— tihat  is,  give  you  one,  and  keep 

vaa  for  myself." 

I  had  plenty  of  apples,  and  I  gladly  accepted  her  offer,  and 
Mrs.  Betty  Fye  departed,  elated  with  the  success  of  her  ex- 
pedition.   I  found  to  my  cost,  that,  once  admitted  into  the 
house,  there  was  no  keeping  her  away.    She  borrowed  every 
thing  that  she  could  think  of,  without  once  dreaming  of  resti- 
tution.  I  tried  all  ways  of  affronting  her,  but  without  success. 
Winter  came,  and  she  was  still  at  her  old  pranks.  Whenever 
I  saw  her  coming  down  the  lane,  I  used  involuntarily  to  ex 
oUum,  "  Betty  Fye !  Betty  Fye !  Fye  upon  Betty  Fye !  The 
Lord  deUver  me  fixim  Betty  Fye !"    The  last  time  I  was 
honoured  with  a  visit  from  this  worthy,  she  meant  to  fiivour 
me  with  a  very  large  order  upon  my  goods  and  chattels. 
"  Well,  Mrs.  Fye,  what  do  you  want  ftwfay  T 
"Somany  things  that  I  scarce  know  where  to  bej^    Ah, 
what  a  thing  'tis  to  be  poor  1    First,  I  want  you  to  lend  m* 
ten  pounds  of  flour  to  make  some  johnnie^jakea." 


y< 


J  mj.  ;.i  ■  I II. .  I.I  ,y  fB^ywt'ff'jfW 


USH. 

ip  one  of  the  apples 

I  guess  youll  want 


re  deverl    Sarce  is 
1  in  the  winter.  Now 


e  no  apples,  and  that 
tnd  if  you'll  give  me 
[  find  me  with  half  a 
pen,  I  will  malie  you 
i  you  one,  and  keep 

ocepted  her  offer,  and 
he  success  of  her  ex- 
ce  admitted  into  the 

She  borrowed  every 
ice  dreaming  of  resti- 
■,  but  without  success. 
Id  pranlu.  Whatever 
d  involuntarily  to  ex 
apon  Betty  Fye !  The 
The  last  time  I  was 
,  she  meant  to  &vour 
)od8  and  chattels, 
tftwfayr 

where  to  be^  Ah, 
want-  you  to  lend  m* 
lie^sakea." 


OUS  FIRST  SETTLSMENT. 


n 


**  I  thought  they  were  made  of  Indian  meal  1" 

"Yes,  yes,  when  you've  got  the  meal.  I'm  out  of  it,  and 
this  is  a  new  fixing  of  my  own  invention.  Lend  me  the  flour, 
woman,  and  I'll  bring  you  one  of  the  cakes  to  taste.' 

This  was  said  very  coaxingly. 

"  Oh,  pray  don't  trouble  yourself.  What  nextl"  I  was 
annous  to  see  how  far  her  impudence  would  go,  and  deter, 
nuned  to  affiront  her  if  possible. 

"  I  want  you  to  lend  me  a  gown,  and  a  pair  of  stockings. 
I  have  to  go  to  Oswego  to  see  my  husband's  aster,  and  I'd 
like  to  look  decent." 

«  Mrs.  Fye,  I  never  lend  my  clothes  to  Miy  one.  If  I  lend 
them  to  you,  I  should  never  wear  them  again." 

«  So  much  the  better  for  me,"  (with  a  knowing  grin).  "  I 
guess  if  you  won't  lend  me  the  gown,  you  will  let  me  have 
some  black  slack  to  quilt  a  stuff  petticoat,  a  quarter  of  a 
pound  of  tea  and  some  sugar ;  and  I  will  bring  them  back  as 
soon  as  I  can." 

"I  wonder  when  that  will  be.  You  owe  me  so  many 
dungs  that  it  will  cost  you  more  than  you  imagine  to  repay 

me." 

"  Since  you're  not  going  to  mention  what's  past,  I  can  t 
owe  rou  much.  But  I  will  let  you  off  the  tea  and  the  sugar, 
if  you  will  lend  me  a  five^ollar  bilL"  This  was  too  much 
for  my  patience  longer  to  endure,  and  I  answered  sharply, 

"  Mrs.  Fye,  it  surprises  me  that  such  proud  people  as  you 
Americans  should  condescend  to  the  meanness  of  borrowing 
from  those  whom  you  affect  to  despise.  Besides,  as  you  never 
repay  us  for  what  you  pretend  to  borrow,  I  look  upon  it  as  a 
■ystem  of  robbery.  If  strangers  unfortunately  settle  among 
you,  their  goodjiature  is  taxed  to  supply  your  domestic  wants, 
at  a  ruinous  expense,  besides  the  mortification  of  finding  that 
they  have  been  deceived  and  tricked  out  of  their  property.  If 


TO 


MOUOHim  IT  IN  TUB  BUSH. 


f-i 


you  would  come  honestly  to  me  and  saj, '  I  want  these  things, 
I  am  too  poor  to  buy  them  myself,  and  would  be  obliged  to 
you  to  give  them  to  me '  I  should  then  acknowledge  you  as  a 
common  beggar,  and  treat  you  accordingly ;  give  or  not  give, 
as  it  suited  my  convenience.  But  in  the  way  in  which  you 
obtain  these  articles  from  me,  you  are  spared  even  a  debt  of 
gratitude ;  for  you  well  know  that  the  many  things  which  you 
have  borrowed  from  me  will  be  a  debt  owing  to  the  day  of 
judgment." 

«'  S'pose  they  are,"  quoth  Betty,  not  in  the  least  abashed 
at  my  lecture  on  honesty,  "  you  know  what  the  Scripture 
saith,  •  It  is  more  blessed  to  give  than  to  receive.' " 

"  Ay,  there  is  an  answer  to  that  in  the  same  book,  which 
doubtless  you  may  have  heard,"  said  I,  disgusted  with  her 
hypocrisy,  "'The  wicked  borroweth,  and  payeth  not  again.'" 
"  Never  shall  I  forget  the  Airious  passion  into  which  this 
too  apt  quotation  threw  my  unprincipled  applicant  She 
lifted  up  her  voice  and  cursed  me,  using  some  of  the  big 
oaths  temporarily  discarded  for  conteienee  sake.  And  so  she 
left  me,  and  I  never  looked  upon  her  fece  again. 

When  I  removed  to  our  own  house,  the  history  of  which, 
and  its  former  owner,  I  will  give  by  and  by,  we  had  a  bony, 
red-headed,  ruflSanly  American  squatter,  who  had  "  left  his 
country  for  his  country's  good,"  for  an  oppodte  neighbour. 
I  had  scarcely  time  to  put  my  house  in  order  before  his 
femily  commenced  borrowing,  or  stealing  from  me.  It  is 
even  worse  than  stealing,  the  things  procured  from  you  being 
obtained  on  fiilse  pretences— adduig  lying  to  theft.  Not 
having  either  an  oven  or  a  cooking-stove,  which  at  that  pe- 
riod  were  not  so  cheap  or  so  common  as  they  are  now,  1 
had  provided  myself  with  a  lai^e  bake-kettle  as  a  substitute. 
In  this  kettle  we  always  cooked  hot  cakes  for  breakfast, 
preferring  that  to  the  trouble  of  thawing  the  froien  bread. 


1 

t 

I 


wsn. 

'  I  want  these  things, 
would  be  obliged  to 
acknowledge  you  as  a 
5ly ;  give  or  not  give, 
9  way  in  which  you 
pared  even  a  debt  of 
any  things  which  you 
owing  to  the  day  of 

in  the  least  abadied 
'  what  the  Scripture 

receive.' " 

;he  same  book,  which 
I,  disgusted  with  her 
1  payeth  not  again.' " 
»sion  into  which  this 
pled  applicant.  She 
ling  some  of  the  big 
£0  sake.  And  so  she 
ie  again. 

the  history  of  wfaidi, 
d  by,  we  had  a  bony, 
>r,  who  had  "  left  his 
1  opporite  neighbour. 
)  in  order  before  his 
ling  from  me.  It  is 
cured  from  you  being 
lyhig  to  theft.  Not 
Dve,  which  at  that  pe- 
1  as  they  are  now,  1 
-kettle  as  a  substitute. 

cakes  for  break&st, 
ing  the  frown  bread. 


OUB  FIRST  SETTLSMEirr. 


73 


This  man's  wife  was  in  the  habit  of  sending  over  for  my  ke^ 
lius maa»  w  as  she  had  a  large 

tie  whenever  ^^l^'f  ^^^^l^'^t^i  found  her  import* 
family,  happened  nearly  every  any,  »i" 

'''Vu>CCd-tl«dso,whowasgenerany  sent  fbr  it; 

and  «ked  him  what  Il»ey  did  to  bake  tiieir  bread  before  I 

"^Tl  guess  we  had  to  eat  cakes  in  the  p«i;  but  now  we  can 
borrow  this  kettle  of  your'n,  mother  can  fa  bread. 

Ttold  him  that  he  could  have  the  ketiie  this  ttme  -,  butl 
n^ult^^U^e  letting  his  mother  have  it  in  future,  for  I  wanted 

it  for  the  same  purp^  The  nidit  was  intensely  cold. 

The  next  day  passed  over.     lhem^i.wi»  {n^  ^- 

and  I  did  not  rise  so  early  as  usual  in  the  "»ormng  My^r^ 
!*nt  was  away  at  a  quUting  bee,  and  we  were  stiU  m  \>^ 
rmh^he  latl  of  L  kitchen^oor  Hfted  up,  «.d  a 
when  1  nw«  ^^  ^^  ^^  y^^^  to 

well-known  nasal  twang,  ^ 

«« Miasusl  Tm  come  for  the  ketUe.  ,        . 

We  cannot  get  our  breakfast  Without  It. 

pCd^ :  «  Nor  more  can  the  old  woxnan  to  hum,  and^ 
anaLing  up  the  kettle,  which  had  been  left  Jo  -ann  ^»  ^^ 
nXhenished  out  of  the  house,  singing,  at  tlie  top  of  h« 

voice, 

»  Hamh  for  the  Yankee  Boy»  I" 

When  James  came  home  for  his  breakfast.  I  sent  Wm 

across  to  demand  the  kettle,  and  the  danle  very  cooUy  toW 

^hat  when  she  had  done  with  it  I  r.ighi  ^^^ ^^^"^ 
Sed  him  to  take  it  out  of  her  house  with  her  bread  m  rt. 

Sie  word  more  about  thU  lad.  Philander,  before  we  part 
4 


74 


ROUamNO  IT  IN  THE  BUSR. 


n 


\, 


with  him.  Without  the  least  intimation  that  his  company 
would  be  agreeable,  or  even  tolerated,  he  favoured  us  with  it 
at  all  hours  of  the  day,  opening  the  door  and  walking  in  and 
out  whenever  he  felt  inclined.  I  had  given  him  many  broad 
»iint8  that  his  presence  was  not  required,  but  he  paid  not  the 
slightest  attention  to  what  I  said.  One  morning  he  marched 
in  with  his  hat  on,  and  threw  himself  down  in  the  rooking- 
«hair,  just  as  I  was  going  to  dress  my  baby. 

"Philander,  I  want  to  attend  to  the  child;  I  cannot  do  it 
with  you  here.     Will  you  oblige  me  by  going  int-j  the 

kitchen  r 

No  answer.  Tie  seldom  spoke  during  these  visits,  but 
wandered  about  i  le  room,  turning  over  our  books  and  papers, 
looking  at  and  handling  every  thing.  Nay,  I  have  even  known 
him  to  take  a  lid  oflf  from  the  pot  on  the  fire,  to  examine  its 
ooutents. 

I  repeated  my  request. 

Philander:  "Well,  I  guess  I  shaVt  hurt  the  young  'un. 
You  can  dress  her." 

I:  "  But  not  with  you  here." 

Philander :  "  Why  not  1  We  never  do  any  thing  that  we 
•re  ashamed  of." 

I.  •♦So  it  seems.  But  I  want  to  sweep  the  room— you 
had  better  get  out  of  the  dust." 

I  took  the  broom  from  the  comer,  and  b^n  to  sweep ; 
gtill  my  visitor  did  not  stir.  The  dust  rose  in  clouds;  he 
rubbed  his  eyes,  and  moved  a  littie  nearer  to  the  door.  Another 
sweep,  and,  to  escape  its  inlUctions,  he  mounted  the  threshold. 
I  had  him  now  at  a  fwr  advantage,  and  fairly  swept  hun  out, 
and  shut  the  door  in  his  face. 

Hiilander  {looking  through  the  mndow)  :  "  Well,  I  guesa 
Tou  did  me  then ;  but  'tis  deuced  hard  to  outwit  a  Yankee." 
This  freed  me  from  his  company,  and  he,  too,  never  r* 


■*», 


that  his  companj 
favoured  us  with  it 
^nd  wallcing  in  and 
In  hira  many  broad 
>ut  he  paid  not  the 
|oming  he  marched 
in  the  rookiiif> 

lild;  I  cannot  do  it 
by  going  int-j  the 

ig  these  visits,  but 

r  boolcs  and  papers, 

I  have  even  known 

fire,  to  examine  ita 


lurt  the  young  'un. 


>  any  thing  that  we 

Bep  the  room — ^you 

d  b^an  to  sweep ; 
rose  in  clouds;  he 
0  the  door.  Another 
anted  the  threshold, 
irly  swept  him  out, 

t>):  "Well,  IguesB 
out^t  a  Yankee." 
d  he,  too,  never  r» 


OUM  FOST  BXTTLEMmrr. 


71 


pettted  Ub  yiA%\  ao  I  found  by  esperienoe,  flwt  onee  iBMrtly 
rebuked,  tbey  did  not  like  to  try  their  atreogdi  with  you  a 
Mcond  tame.  When  •  sufiicient  time  had  ebpaed  for  the  dry 
ing  of  my  twenty  bushels  of  apjdea,  I  sent  •  Cornish  lad,  in 
our  employ,  to  Betty  Fye's,  to  inquire  if  diey  were  ready, 
and  when  I  should  send  the  cart  kit  them.  Dan  returned 
witli  a  yellow,  smoke^ed  string  of  pieces,  dangling  fixMn  Ua 
arm.  Dunking  that  these  were  a  specimen  of  the  whole,  I 
inquired  wlien  we  were  to  send  tlie  barrel  for  tiie  rest 

''Lord,  ma'am,  this  is  all  there  be." 

"  Impossible  1    All  out  of  twenty  busliels  of  wp^  f 

"Yea,"  said  the  boy,  witii  a  grin.   "Ibe  old  witch  told  ma 
that  this  was  all  Hiat  was  left  of  your  share;  that  when  they . 
were  fiaed  enough,  she  put  tiiem  under  her  bed  for  8afety,and 
tiie  mice  and  the  children  had  eaten  them  all  up  but  this  atring." 

lUs  ended  my  dealings  with  Betty  Fye. 

I  had  anotlier  incorrigible  Ixurrower  in  tlie  peraon  of  <dd 

Betty  B .    Tins  B^  was  unlike  tlu  rest  of  my  Yankee 

borrowers;  sIm  was  Ittndaome  in  iier  person,  and  remarkably 
civil,  and  she  adced  for  tlie  loan  of  every  thing  fai  audi  a  franlt, 
pleasant  manner,  diat  for  some  time  I  hardly  knew  how  to 
refiiae  her.  After  I  had  been  a  Umct  to  a  ocmsiderabla  vt- 
tent,  and  declined  lending  her  any  more,  she  reflsined  from 
coming  to  the  ixMue  lierself,  but  sent  in  her  name  tbe  moat 
beautiful  boy  in  tin  world :  a  perfect  cherub,  witli  |»gular 
*  fflaturea,  blue,  smiling  eyea,  rosy  cheeks,  and  k>reiy  eurling 
auburn  hair,  who  aaid,  in  tlK  softest  tones  imaginable,  thatt 
mammy  had  aent  lure,  with  her  comfUtw^^  to  dke'  English 
lady  to  ask  the  k)an  of  a  little  sofftc  or  :^-d  I  could  easUy 
ham  reftned  the  mother,  but  I  could  -iot  ^l  it  ii^  my  heart 
to  «ay  nay  to  iier  sweet  boy. 

There  was  aometiung  original  about  Betty  B^— ^  and  I 
must  give  a  8l||^  sketch  of  her. 


-II 


\ 


It 


MouoHnro  rr  nr  the  busb. 


She  lived  in  a  Icne  shspty  in  Uws  woods,  which  had  been 
erected  by  lumberers  some  years  before,  and  which  was  de» 
titute  of  a  single  acre  of  clearing ;  yet  Betty  had  plenty  of 
potatoes,  without  the  trouble  of  planting,  or  the  expense  of 
buying ;  she  never  kept  a  cow,  yet  she  sold  butter  and  milk ; 
but  she  had  a  fashion,  and  ?t  proved  a  convenirat  one  to  her, 
of  making  pets  of  the  cattle  of  her  neighbours.  If  our  cows 
strayed  from  their  pastures,  they  were  always  found  near 
Betty's  shanty,  for  she  regularly  supplied  them  with  salt, 
whidi  formed  a  sort  of  bond  of  union  between  them ;  and,  in 
return  for  these  little  attentions,  they  suffered  themselves  to 
be  milked  before  they  returned  to  their  respective  owners. 
Her  mode  of  obtaining  eggs  and  fowls  was  on  the  same  eoo- 
Bomical  plan,  and  we  all  looked  upon  Betty  as  a  sort  of  fre» 
hooter,  living  upon  the  property  of  othws.  Bhe  had  had  three 
husbands,  and  he  with  whom  she  now  lived  was  not  her  hu^ 
band,  although  the  fa^r  of  the  splendid  child  whose  beauty 
■o  wtm  upon  my  woman's  heart  Her  first  husband  was  still 
living,  (a  thing  by  no  means  uncommon  among  persons  of  her 
dass,  in  Canada,)  and  though  they  had  quarrelled  and  parted 
years  ago,  he  ocoasiottally  visited  his  wife  to  see  her  eldest 
daughter,  Betty  the  younger,  who  was  a  child.  She  was  now 
•  fine  girl  of  sixteen,  as  beautiful  as  her  Httle  brother.  Betty's 
second  husband  had  been  killed  in  one  of  our  fields  by  a  tree 
tilling  upon  him  wUIe  plou^ing  wider  it  He  was  buried 
upon  the  spot,  part  of  the  blackened  stump  forming  his  rncma- 
■Mnt  In  trudi,  Betty's  diaracter  was  ntme  of  the  best,  and 
Bany  of  the  respectable  fiirmers*  wives  regarded  her  with  a 
jealous  eyck 

"  I  am  so  jealous  of  that  nasty  Betty  B ,"  said  the  Vft 

of  an  Irish  captain  in  the  army,  and  our  near  neighbour,  to 
tie,  one  day  as  we  were  sitting  at  work  together.  She  was  • 
West  Indiu),  and  a  negro  by  the  mother's  «de,  but  an  unoon^ 


OaS  FIRST  aETTLSXBNT. 


n 


loh  bad  been 

hioh  WM  dMi 

had  plenty  of 

expeiwe  of 

ir  and  milk ; 

it  one  to  her, 

If  our  cowH 

jTH  found  near 

lem  with  salt, 

them ;  and,  in 

themselves  to 

)ective  owners. 

D  the  same  eoo- 

a  sort  of  ire» 

e  had  had  three 

as  not  her  hu^ 

d  whose  beauty 

usband  was  still 

g  persons  of  her 

elled  and  parted 

y  see  her  eldest 

L    She  was  now 

>rother.    Betty's 

'  fields  by  a  tree 

He  was  buried 

rming  his  zMxia- 

of  the  best,  and 

urded  her  with  a 

-,"  said  the  VA 
ar  neighbour,  to 
her.  She  was  s 
B,  but  an  unooQk 


men  fine-looking  mulatto,  very  passionate,  and  very  watchAd 
over  the  conduct  of  her  husband.  "  Are  you  not  afiraid  of 
letting  Captain  Moodie  go  near  her  shanty  1" 

"  No,  indeed ;  and  if  I  were  so  foolish  as  to  be  jealc's.  It 
would  not  bo  of  old  Betty,  but  of  the  beautiful  young  Betty, 
her  daughter."  Perhaps  this  was  rather  mischievous  on  my 
part,  for  the  poor  dark  lady  went  off  in  a  frantic  fit  of  jealousy, 
but  this  time  it  was  not  of  old  Betty. 

Another  American  squatter  was  always  sending  over  ta 
borrow  a  small-tooth  comb,  which  she  called  a  vermin  d»- 
ttroyer;  and  once  the  same  person  asked  the  loan  of  a  towel, 
as  a  friend  Iiad  come  from  the  States  to  visit  her,  and  the  only 
one  she  had,  had  been  made  into  a  best  "pinny"  for  tha 
child ;  she  likewise  begged  a  sight  in  the  looking-glass,  as  she 
wanted  to  try  on  a  new  cap,  to  see  if  it  were  fixed  to  her 
mind.  This  woman  must  have  been  a  mirror  of  neatnesa 
when  compared  with  her  dirty  neighbours. 

One  night  I  was  roused  up  from  my  bed  for  the  loan  of  a 
pair  of  "  steelyards.'*  For  what  purpose,  think  you,  gen- 
tle reader  1  To  weigh  a  new-bom  infant.  The  process  was 
performed  by  tying  the  poor  squalling  thing  up  in  a  small 
diawl,  and  suspending  it  to  one  of  the  hooks.  Tlie  child  was 
a  fine  boy,  and  weighed  tea  pounds,  greatly  to  the  ddight  of 
the  Yankee  father.  One  of  the  drollest  instances  of  borrowing 
I  have  ever  heard  of  was  told  me  by  a  friend.  A  raaid-ser- 
vant  asked  her  mistress  to  go  out  on  a  particular  afternoon, 
as  she  was  going  to  have  a  party  of  her  fidrads,  and  wanted 
the  loan  of  the  drawing-room.  It  would  be  endless  to  enume- 
rate our  k>sses  in  this  way ;  bat,  fortunately  for  us,  the  arrival 
of  an  Ik^lish  family  in  our  immediate  vickiity  drew  off  the 
attenttoB  of  our  neighbours  in  that  direction,  and  left  us  tim« 
to  recover  a  little  from  their  persecutions. 

lliis  system  of  borrowing  is  not  wholly  oocfined  to  tiM 


/' 


V 


t» 


MOUOmifa  IT  IN  TIIE  BUSH. 


poor  and  ignorant;  it  perrados  every  clam  of  Huciety.  If  a 
party  ia  given  in  any  of  the  small  villages,  a  boy  is  sent  round 
horn  house  to  bouse,  to  collect  all  the  plates  Mid  dishes,  knives 
and  forks,  tea-spoons  and  candleaticks,  that  are  presentable,  for 
the  UM  of  the  company. 

DnriBf  my  stay  at  the  hotel,  1  too*  a  dress  oat  of  my 
trunk,  and  hnng  it  up  «pon  a  p^  in  my  chamber,  in  order  to 
remove  the  creases  it  had  received  from  close  packing.  Ra- 
turning  from  a  walk  in  the  afternoon,  I  found  a  note  upon  my 
dressing-table,  inviting  us  to  spend  the  evening  with  a  clergy- 
man's family  in  the  village;  and  as  it  was  nearly  time  tc 
dress,  I  went  to  the  peg  to  take  down  my  gown.  Was  it  a 
dream? — the  gown  was  gone.  I  re-opened  the  trunk,  to  see 
if  I  had  replaced  it ;  I  searched  every  comer  of  the  room,  but 
all  in  vain;  no  where  could  1  discover  the  thii^  I  sough*. 
What  had  become  of  iti  The  question  was  a  delicate  one, 
which  I  did  not  like  to  put  to  the  young  ladies  of  the  truly 
respectable  establishment;  still,  the  loss  was  great,  and  at 
tfiat  moment  very  InoooTenient.  Wlule  I  was  deliberating 
on  what  course  to  pursue.  Miss  S entered  the  room. 

"  I  guess  you  missed  your  dress,"  she  said,  with  a  smile. 

"Do  you  Imow  where  it  is  )" 

"Oh,  sure.     Miss  L ,  the  dressmaker,  came  in  just 

dter  yon  left.  She  is  a  very  particular  friend  of  mine,  and  I 
(l^ywed  her  your  dress.  She  admired  it  above  all  things,  and 
borrowed  it,  to  get  the  pattern  for  Miss  R ^'s  wedding 


She  promised  to  return  it  to-morrow." 
"  Provoking !    I  wanted  it  to-night.    Who  ever  heard  of 

borrowing  a  person's  dress  without  the  leave  of  the  owner  1 

Truly,  this  is  a  free-and-easy  country  f" 

One  very  severe  winter  night,  a  neighbour  borrowed  of 

me  a  blw^et — it  was  one  of  my  best — for  the  use  of  a  straiv 

ger  who  was  passing  the  ni|^t  at  her  house.    I  could  not  veil 


iety.    If  • 

is  sent  round 

[dishes,  knives 

entable,  for 

OBt  of  my 
r,  in  order  to 
)Mking.     R»> 
note  upon  my 
witk  •  olergy- 
neurly  time  tc 
irn.     Was  it  a 
e  tninli,  to  see 
f  the  room,  but 
tMi^  I  soughft. 
•  delicate  one, 
lea  of  the  truly 
Ls  great,  and  at 
Las  deliberating 
d  the  room. 
1,  with  a  smile. 

or,  came  in  jusk 
d  of  mine,  and  1 
re  all  things,  and 
t ^'b  wedding 

ho  ever  heard  of 
e  of  the  ownerl 

our  borrowed  o# 

heuseofastraiv 

I  could  not  well 


OtrJi  FJBST  SETTLBMENT. 


79 


reflue ;  but  at  that  time,  the  world  pressed  me  sore,  and  1 
could  ill  spare  it.  Two  years  elapsed,  and  I  saw  no  more  of 
my  blanket ;  at  length  1  sent  a  note  to  the  lady,  requesting 
it  to  be  returned.  I  got  a  very  short  answer  back,  and  the 
blanket,  alas !  worn  threadbare ;  the  borrower  stating  that  she 
had  sent  the  article,  but  really  she  did  not  know  what  to  do 
without  it,  a«  she  wanted  it  to  cover  the  children's  bed.  I%e 
certainly  forgot  that  I,  too,  had  children,  who  wanted  covering 
as  well  as  her  own.  But  1  have  said  so  much  of  the  ill  results 
of  others'  borrowing,  that  I  will  close  this  sketch  by  relating 
my  own  experience  in  this  way. 

After  removing  to  the  bush,  many  misfortunes  befell  us, 
which  deprived  us  of  our  income,  and  reduced  us  to  great 
poverty.  In  fact,  we  were  strangers,  and  the  knowing  ones 
took  us  in  ;  and  for  many  years  we  struggled  with  hard- 
ships  which  would  have  broken  stouter  hearts  than  ours,  had 
not  our  trust  been  placed  in  the  Almighty,  who  among  all  our 
troubles  never  wholly  deserted  us. 

While  my  husband  was  absent  on  the  frontier  during 
the  rebellion,  my  youngest  boy  fell  very  mok,  and  required 
my  utmost  care,  Imth  by  night  and  day.  To  attend  to  him 
pn^[>erly,  a  candle  burning  during  the  night  was  necessary. 
Hie  Ust  candle  was  burnt  out ;  I  had  no  money  to  buy  an> 
oAer,  and  no  fat  from  which  I  could  make  one.  I  hated  bor- 
rowing; but,  for  the  dear  child's  sake,  (  overcame  my 
Boruples,  and  succeeded  in  procuring  a  candle  fVom  a  good 
neighbour,  but  with  strict  injunctions  (for  it  was  her  latt) 
that  I  must  return  it  if  I  did  not  require  it  during  the  night. 

I  went  home  quite  gratefiil  with  my  prizo.  It  was  a  clear 
moonlight  night — the  dear  boy  was  better,  so  I  told  old  Jenny, 
my  Irish  servant,  to  go  to  bed,  as  I  would  lie  down  in  my 
clothes  by  the  child,  and  if  be  were  worse  I  would  get  up  and 
light  the  candle.    It  happened  that  a  pane  of  glass  was  broken 


wyjii,  iji 


"awsrawpw"*" 


-^ 


80 


BOUOHJNO  IT  Jy  TffB  BU6S. 


out  of  the  window-frame,  and  1  had  suppUed  ito  place  by  fit 

ting  in  a  shingle ;  my  friend  Emilia  S had  a  large  Tot* 

cat,  who,  when  his  mistress  was  absent,  often  paid  me  a  preda- 
tory or  borrowing  visit;  and  Tom  had  a  practice  of  pushing 
in  diis  wooden  pane,  in  order  to  pursue  his  lawless  depreda, 
tions.  I  had  forgotten  alltfus,  and  never  dreaming  that  Tom 
would  appropriate  such  light  food,  I  left  the  candle  lying  in 
the  middle  of  the  table,  just  under  the  window. 

Between  sleeping  and  waking,  I  heard  the  pane  gently 
pushed  in.  Hie  thought  instantly  struck  me  that  it  was  Tom, 
and  that,  for  lack  of  something  better,  he  might  steal  my  pre- 

dous  candle.  ,  _..  ^.      _l 

I  sprang  up  from  the  bed,  just  in  time  to  see  hrai  dart  through 

Hie  broken  window,  dragging  the  long  white  candle  aft«r  him. 

Iflew  to  the  door, and  pursued  him  AoJ^ over  tiie  field,  but aU 

to  no  purpose.    I  can  see  him  now,  as  I  saw  him  tiien  s«im- 

pering  away  for  dear  life,  with  his  prize  trailing  behind  him, 

gleaming  like  a  silver  tail  in  the  bright  light  of  tiie  moon. 

Ah!  never  did  I  feel  more  acutely  tiie  trutii  of  Uie  proverb, 

••Those  tiiat  go  a-borrowing  go  a^rrowing,"  than  I  did  tiiat 

night    My  poor  boy  awoke  iU  and  feverish,  and  I  had  i» 

light  to  asdst  him,  or  even  to  look  into  his  sweet  feoe^ 

iM  how  ftr  I  dared  hope  tiuit  tiie  light  of  day  wodd  fad 

him  in  the  land  of  the  living. 


m 


■«■■«.  '!.!T^f.^^»■V^''i^ 


OLD  SATAN  ASD  TOM  WILSOIPS  J/OSX. 


8 


3d  ita  plaue  by  fit 
had  a  lai^  Tonv 
1  paid  me  a  preda- 
racdoe  of  pushing 

lawless  depreda- 
reaming  that  Tom 
hb  candle  lying  in 
low. 

the  pane  gently 
e  that  it  was  Tom, 
light  steal  my  pro- 
se lum  dart  through 
e  candle  after  him. 
er  the  field,  but  all 
vw  him  then,  scam- 
iiiling  behind  him, 
bt  of  the  moon, 
•uth  of  the  proverb, 
g,"  than  I  did  that 
Biish,  and  I  had  no 
>  his  sweet  fitoe,  to 

of  day  wodd  fnd 


CHAPTER  VI. 

OLD    SAIAS    AHD    tOU    WIlSOW's    HOa«. 

MAnoMiklndiirt   Sow  mothet  H«tuf«, 
WWh  •«  Uer  flreiki.  ne'er  torm'd  Uii»  feitufi. 
If  loeh  were  mlnr.  I'd  try  and  trade  H, 
And  iwear  tbe  gods  bad  never  made  It." 

A  FTER  reducing  the  log  cabin  into  some  sort  of  order,  iro 
A.  contrived,  with  the  aid  of  a  few  boards,  to  maka  a  bed- 
olo«>t  for  poor  Tom  Wilson,  who  continued  to  shake  every 
day  with  the  pitQess  ague.    There  was  no  way  of  admitting 
liiit  and  air  into  this  domicUe,  which  openedjnto  the  general 
Satment.  but  through  a  square  hole  cut  in  one  of  the  planks, 
]SiLe  enough  to  admit  a  m«i'.  head  through  dje  aperttu^ 
Here  we  made  Tom  a  comfortable  bed  on  Ae  floor,  and  M 
die  best  we  could  to  nurse  him  through  his  »<*»««;    ™» 
taur,  thin  ftoe,  emaciated  with  disease,  and  surrounded  l^ 
SS bkok  whiskers,  and  a be«d  of  a  week's  growthjlook^ 
perfeoUy  unearthly.    He  had  only  to  stare  at  the  baby  to 
ftji^ten  her  almost  out  of  her  wits. 

«  How  fond  that  young  one  is  of  me,"  he  would  »y ;    ■•«• 

flries  for  joy  at  the  sight  of  me."  u    i.  w  ?n  ar^ 

Among  faia  curiosities  and  he  had  m«»y,  he  held  m  greal 
erteem  a  huge  no«smade  hollow  to  fit  hi.  fiice,  which  hi. 
t^,"^^  .B  eccentric  as  himseli;  ^<-^^2 
SrWooTwhen  he  dipped  this  no«»  over  h«i  own  |^ 
was  no  beautifiil  dasBical  specimen  of  a  nasal  organ),  it  mad. 


x*. 


p<r?j '  K^i  Kv-J^m'^^y*  ■J.t^' 


irngjuw   S'.'vwti'v  •r^ 


» 


souatmra  it  in  the  bosb. 


i«r 


a  most  perfect  and  ludeous  disguise.    The  mother  who  bort 
him  never  would  have  recognized  her  acoompliahed  son. 
Numberless  were  the  triclis  he  played  off  with  this  nose 

Once  he  walked  through  the  streets  of ,  with  this  pro. 

bosois  attached  to  his  face.  "What  a  nose  I  Loolc  at  the 
man  with  the  nose !"  cried  all  the  boys  in  the  streets.  A 
party  of  Irish  emigrants  passed  at  the  moment  The  men, 
with  the  courtesy  natural  to  their  nation,  forbwre  to  laugh  in 
the  gentleman's  face ;  but  after  they  had  passed,  Tom  looked 
back,  and  saw  them  be^t  half  double  in  convulsions  of  mirth. 
Tom  made  the  party  a  low  bow,  gravely  took  off  his  nose, 
and  put  it  in  his  pocket. 

The  day  after  Uiis  frolic,  he  had  a  very  severe  lit  of  the 
ague,  and  looked  so  ill  that  I  really  entertained  fears  for  Us 
life.  The  hot  fit  had  just  left  him,  and  he  lay  upon  his  bed 
bedewed  with  a  cold  perspiration,  in  a  state  of  complete 
exhaustion. 

"  Poor  Tom,"  sud  I,  **  he  has  passed  a  horrible  day,  but 
the  wtwst  is  over,  and  I  will  make  him  a  cup  of  coflfee."  While 
preparing  it.  Old  Satan  came  in  and  began  to  talk  to  my  hus- 
band. He  happened  to  sit  directly  oppomte  the  aperture 
wHch  gave  light  and  air  to  Tom's  berth.  Ibis  man  waa  die. 
gustingly  ugly.  He  had  lost  one  eye  in  a  quarrel.  It  had 
been  gouged  out  in  the  barbarous  conflict,  and  the  side  of  his 
ftce  presented  a  succession  of  horrible  scars  inflicted  by  the 
teeth  of  his  savage  adversary.  The  nickname  he  had  aoqubred 
ftrou^  the  country  sufiidently  testified  to  the  respectability 
of  his  character,  and  dreadful  tales  were  told  of  him  in  the 
oeigbbouriiood,  where  he  was  alike  feared  and  hated. 

The  rude  fellow,  with  lus  accustomed  insolence,  began 
abusing  the  old  country  folks. 

llie  English  were  great  bulliea,  he  said ;  they  thoui^t  no 
one  oould  fight  but  tbemselvea;  but  the  Yankees  bad  whipped 


mother  who  bon 
plished  son. 
)ff  with  this  nose 
— ,  with  this  pro. 
w  I    Look  at  the 
I  the  streets.    A 
ment    The  men, 
»rlKMre  to  hiugh  ui 
ssed,  Tom  looked 
vulsions  of  mirth, 
took  off  his  nose, 

'  severe  At  of  the 
ained  fears  for  Ui 
I  lay  upon  his  bed 
itate  of  complete 

i  horrible  day,  but 
ofoofiee.**  While 
to  talk  to  my  bus- 
)mte  the  aperture 
Ibis  man  waa  dia> 
a  quarrel.  It  had 
ind  the  side  of  his 
ra  inffioted  by  the 
ne  he  had  acquired 
I  the  reqpeotabOity 
told  of  him  in  the 
and  hated, 
d  insolence,  began 

;  they  tlwuii^t  no 
inkeoa  bad  whipped 


OLD  SATAN  AND  TOM  WILSON'S  NOSR 


8S 


tliem,  and  would  whip  them  again.    He  was  not  afeard  of 
them,  he  never  was  afear'd  in  his  life. 

Scarcely  were  the  words  out  of  his  mouth,  when  a  horrible 
apparition  presented  itself  to  his  view.  Slowly  rising  ftom 
his  bed,  and  putting  on  the  fictitious  nose,  while  he  drew  Ws 
white  nightrcap  over  his  ghastly  and  livid  brow,  Tom  thrust 
lus  face  through  the  aperture,  and  uttered  a  diabolical  cry; 
then  sank  down  upon  his  unseen  couch  as  noiselessly  as  he 
had  arisen.  The  cry  was  like  nothing  human,  and  it  was 
echoed  by  an  involuntary  scream  from  the  lips  of  our  maid- 
servant and  myself. 

«  Good  God !  what's  that  ?"  cried  Satan,  Wling  back  in  his 
chair,  and  pointing  to  the  vacant  aperture.  "  Did  you  hear 
it  t  did  you  see  it  1  It  beats  the  universe.  I  never  saw  a 
ghoak  or  the  devil  before !" 

Moodie,  who  had  reoogniied  the  ghost,  and  greatly  «i- 
joyed  the  ftin,  pretended  profound  ignorance,  and  coolly 
mrinuated  that  Old  Satan  had  lost  his  semm.  The  man  was 
bewildered ;  he  stared  at  the  vacant  aperture,  then  at  us  fa 
torn,  as  if  he  doubted  the  accuracy  of  his  own  viaon.  ••  Tia 
tarnation  odd,"  he  said ;  "but  the  women  heard  it  too." 
*♦  I  heard  a  sound,"  I  said,  «  a  dreadful  sound,  but  I  saw  no 

ghost" 

« Sure  an'  'twas  himsel',"  said  my  lowland  Scotdi  girt, 
who  now  perceived  the  joke ;«  he  waa  a  seeken'  to  gie  ua 
pair  bodies  a  wee  fricht" 

"  How  long  have  you  been  subject  to  these  sort  of  fitsT 
said  L  "You  had  better  speak  to  the  dootw  about  them. 
Such  fhnoies,  if  they  are  not  attended  to,  often  end  fa  mad- 

noss. 

"  Mad  r  (wry  inHgnantiy)  "  I  guess  Pm  not  mad,  but  M 
wide  awake  as  you  are.  Did  I  not  see  it  with  my  own  «jreBl 
And  then  the  noisa— I  oould  not  make  suoh  a  tarnation  outerj 


84 


Bouomm  IT  m  ths  bush. 


W- 


1^ 


to  save  my  life.  But  be  it  man  or  devil,  1  don't  care,  fm  not 
afear'd,"  doubling  his  fist  very  undecidedly  at  the  hole.  Again 
the  ghastly  head  was  protruded— the  dreadfiil  eyes  rolled 
wUdly  in  their  hollow  sodt^ta,  and  a  yell  more  appalling  than 
the  former  rang  through  the  room.  The  man  sprang  from 
his  chair,  which  he  overturned  in  his  fright,  and  stood  for  an 
hutant  with  Jiis  one  eyebaU  starting  from  his  head,  and 
glaring  upon  the  spectre;  his  cheeks  deadly  pale;  the  cold 
perspiration  streaming  from  his  feoe ;  his  lips  dissevered,  and 
his  teeth  chattering  in  his  head. 

"There— there— there.    Look— look,  it  comes  agahil— 

the  devfl !— the  devil  I" 

Here  Tom,  who  still  kept  his  eyes  fixed  upon  his  vicbm, 
gave  a  knowing  wink,  and  thrust  his  tongue  out  of  his  mouth. 

«He  is  coming!— he  is  coming!"  cried  the  affrighted 
wretch ;  and  clearing  the  open  doorway  with  one  leap,  he  fled 
across  the  field  at  foil  speed.  The  stream  intercepted  his 
path— he  passed  it  at  a  bound,  plunged  into  the  forest,  and 

was  out  of  sight  .     ^  j 

«  Ha,  ha,  ha !"  chuckled  poor  Tom,  sinkmg  down  exhausted 
on  his  bed.  «0  that  I  had  strength  to  follow  up  my  advan^ 
tage,  I  would  lead  Old  Satan  such  a  chase  that  he  should  thhik 
his  namesake  was  in  truth  behind  him." 

During  the  six  weeks  that  we  inhabited  that  wretched 
cabin,  we  never  were  troubled  by  Old  Satan  again.  As  Tom 
slowly  recovered,  and  began  to  regain  his  appetite,  his  soul 
sickened  over  the  salt  beef  and  pork,  which,  owing  to  our 

distance  from ,  fonned  our  principal  fiure.    He  po» 

itively  refosed  to  touch  the  »ad  bread,  as  my  Yankee  neigh, 
hours  very  appropriately  termed  the  unleavened  cakes  in  the 
pan ;  and  it  was  no  easy  matter  to  send  e  man  on  howeback 

eisht  miles  to  fetch  a  loaf  of  bread. 

«Do,my  dearMrs.Moodle,like  a  goodOrirtlana.  you 


MT  yt&ST  OAVAOIAH  LOAF. 


81 


n't  owe,  rm  not 
the  hole.  Again 
3fbl  eye*  rolled 
re  appalling  than 
nan  sprang  from 
and  stood  for  an 
II  his  head,  and 
ly  pale ;  the  cold 
fl  dissevered,  and 

oomes  ag^!— 

1  upon  his  victim, 
out  of  his  mouth, 
ad  the  affri|^ited 
li  one  leap,  he  fled 
n  intercepted  his. 
to  the  forest,  and 

ig  down  exhausted 
owup  my  advan. 
lat  he  should  thhik 

»d  that  wretdied 
a  again.  As  Tom 
appetite,  his  soul 
hicfa.  owing  to  our 
al  fere.  He  po» 
my  Yankee  nei^ 
vened  cakes  in  the 
man  ita  horsebadi 

)d  Christian  ••  you 


1^  give  me  a  morsel  of  the  baby's  biscuit,  and  try  a^d  make 
us  some  decent  bread.  The  stuff  your  servant  gives  us  is  un- 
eatable,"  said  WUson  to  me,  in  most  imploring  accents. 

«  Most  willingly.    But  I  have  no  yeast ;  and  I  never  bakea 
fai  one  of  those  strange  ketUes  in  my  life." 

"ra  go  to  old  Joe's  wife  and  lorrow  some,  said  he; 
« they  are  always  borrowing  of  you."  Away  he  went  across 
the  field,  but  won  returned.  I  looked  into  his  jug-it  was 
empty.  ''No  luck,"  said  he;  "those  stingy  ^J^^es  had 
just  baked  a  fine  batch  of  bread,  and  they  would  neither 
lend  nor  sell  a  loaf;  but  they  told  me  how  to  make  their 

""^^i^IrXu*  *e  same;"  but  I  much  doubted  if  he 
ooiild  remember  the  recipe. 

"  You  are  to  take  an  old  tin  pan,"  said  he,  sitting  down  on 
the  stool,  and  poking  the  fire  with  a  stick. 

«  Must  it  be  an  old  one  1"  said  I,  laughing. 

"  Of  course ;  they  said  so." 

•♦And  what  am  I  to  put  fato  it  1" 

«  Patience ;  let  me  begin  at  tiie  begimiing.  Some  flour 
uA  wam^  milk-but,  by  George !  Fve  forgot  all  about  it.  I 
was  wondering  «i  I  came  across  tiw  field  why  they  caUed  the 
yeast  mififcemptyings,  and  that  put  the  way  t»  make  it  quite 
out  of  my  head.  But  never  mind;  it  is  only  tenj>clock  by 
-   my  watch.    I  have  nothing  to  do ;  I  will  go  again." 

He  went    Would  I  had  been  there  to  hear  tiie  coUoquy 
between  him  and  Mrs.  Joe ;  he  described  it  sometfitag  to  tiiia 

MrTjoe :  "  Well,  stranger,  what  do  you  want  now  1" 
Tom:  "I  have  forgotten  the  way  you  told  me  how  to 

make  the  bread."  - 

Mrs.  Joe:  "I  never  ♦wld  ynu  now  to  make  br»jnd.    i 

guess  you  are  a  fooL    People  have  to  raise  bread  before  Uiey 


l»itlllllllU 


86 


Bouoama  IT  w  rsn  susn. 


MB  hake  it.    Pray  who  sent  you  to  make  game  of.mel    I 
gueaa  eomebody  as  wise  as  yourself." 

Tom :  "  The  lady  at  whose  house  I  am  staying." 

Mrs.  Joe :  "Xorfy/  I  can  tell  you  that  we  have  nc  laditi 
here.  So  the  old  woman  who  lives  in  the  old  log  shanty  in 
liie  hollow  don't  know  how  to  make  bread.  A  clever  wife 
diatl  Are  you  her  husband T  {Tom  thaket  hit  head.) 
«Her  brother?"  (Another  thake.)  "Her  son?  Do  you 
hear  1  or  are  you  deaf  1"    {Going  qwU  elote  up  to  him.) 

Tom  {moving  back):  "Mistress,  Fm  not  deaf;  and  who 
or  what  I  am  is  nothing  to  you.  Will  you  oblige  me  by 
telling  me  how  to  make  the  milUmptyings  ;  and  this  lime  FU 
put  it  down  in  my  pocket-book." 

Mrs.  Joe  {with  a  strong  sneer) :  "  MilUmptyinga  I  Milk, 
I  told  you.  So  you  expect  me  to  answer  your  questions,  and 
pve  back  nothing  in  return.  Get  you  gone ;  I'll  tell  you  no 
more  about  it." 

Tom  {bowing  very  low) :  "  Thank  you  for  your  HviUtg.  Is 
the  old  woman  who  lives  in  the  little  shanty  near  the  apple- 
trees  more  obliging?" 

Mrs.  Joe :  "  That's  my  husband's  mother.  You  may  try. 
I  guess  she'U  give  you  an  answer."    {Exit,  slamming  the  door 

in  hisjaee.) 

«  And  what  did  you  do  then?"  sdd  I. 

«  Oh,  wMit  of  course.  The  door  was  open,  and  I  reoon- 
taoitred  the  premises  before  I  ventured  in.  I  liked  the  phiz  of 
the  old  woman  a  deal  better  than  that  of  her  daughter-in-law, 
although  it  was  cunning  and  inquisitive,  and  as  sharp  as  a 
needle.  She  was  busy  sheUing  cobs  of  Indian  com  into  a 
barrel,  i  nq>ped  at  the  door,  bne  told  me  to  come  in,  and 
in  I  stepped.  She  asked  me  if  f  wanted  her.  I.told  her  my 
errand,  at  which  she  laujrhed  heartily. 

Old  woman:  '•  You  are  njm  toe  old  country,  I  guess,  o» 


iir  nxsT  ciKADJAxr  loaf. 


n 


;ameof.me1    I 

lying." 

B  have  nc  ladiei 
Id  log  shanty  in 
,  A  dever  wife 
haket  hii  head.) 

son?  Do  you 
I  up  to  him.) 

deaf;  and  who 
a  oblige  me  by 
and  (Ms  time  FU 

ptyinga !  Milk, 
ur  questions,  and 
;  I'll  tell  you  no 

your  eivility.  Is 
'  near  the  apple- 

'.  You  may  try. 
lamming  tht  door 


ipen,  and  I  reooii> 
liked  the  phiz  of 
r  daughter-in-law, 
Ld  as  sharp  as  a 
idian  com  into  a 
le  to  come  in,  and 
T.    I.told  her  my 

nmtry,  I  guesa,  ot 


yoa  would  know  bow  to  uake  mitt^mptyin^   Now^ 

S^ays  prefer  b^r^ptyings.    Tb.7  '^\^'Jr'  ^J^ 
SI  Um  «pi««.  give- If -ourish  taste,  «.d  the  bn«  i.  tb. 

least  trouble."  .      „  tr«— j« 

Tom:"Tl»enletushavetfiebran,byallm«ans.    Howdc 

pot, or  kettle, buta  jug wiUdo,«id  a  t««P«»^f  ^f '»  ^. 
^  you  don't  kill  it  with  salt,  for  if  you  do,  it  won*^  ""J  » 
Aen  id  «i  much  warm  wat«r,  at  Wo?^****."^^ 
into,  stiff  batter.  »  ^en  put  the  j«y  mto  a  p»  <^  w«n 
water,  and  set  it  on  the  hearth  near  the  fire,  «*  keep  »t  at  tte 

:ZZ  until  it  rises,  which  it  g-«»y ^*>!/ ^^ 
.tt«ndtoit,i«twoorthr«ehour.'time.  "^^^^  ^"^^ 
^  at  the  top,«d  you  seewhito  bubb  e,  nsmg  ^h  .J, 
jou  may  stxain  it  mto  your  flour,  and  ky  your  bread.    It 

makes  good  bread."  j  t^  •«« 

To^^My  good  wom«.,  I  «n  8«*«y  ^^^^^^^/"^ 

We  have  no  bran ;  am  you  give  me  •  "^^""^^ 
Old  woman:  "I  never  give  any  tW^g-  J««  ^f^ 

who  come  out  with  stacks  of  money,  can  $flbrd  to  buy. 
Tom :  "Sell  me  a  sroiJl  quantity." 

t^  u  I  „«««  I  will »    (Edging  quilt  rfow,  and 

Old  woman:  "1  guess  1  wm.      V^*^  "»  t  ». 

/xi«^  A«- .A«y  eye.  o«  Aim.)    «  You  m«*  be  very  rich  t. 

buy  bran."  . .  „ 

Tom(?«i««a%):"Oh,veryncL  ^ 

Oldwoman:  "How  do  you  get  your  money  r 

Tom(«.««*«ea%):"Idon'tstealit 

01dwom«i:«Pr'ap.not    I  guea.  you'll  soon  let  other. 

do  that  for  you  if  you  don't  take  care.    Are  the  people  yoii 

live  with  related  to  your  -.x    «n„  iWa  dd* 

Tom  (hardly  abh  to  knp  his  gta^tg):  "On  Brtft  «* 

TPhey  «re  >ny  friends." 


88 


MOUOHINO  IT  IN  TBS  BUSB. 


Old  woman  (in  surpri$e) :  "  And  do  they  keep  yon  ft* 
nothing,  or  do  you  work  for  your  meat  1" 

Tom  (impatiently):  "la  that  bran  ready T  {77te  old 
woman  go«$  to  the  bin,  and  meaiurti  out  a  quart  of  bran.) 
"  What  am  I  to  pay  your 

Old  woman :  «  A  York  shilling." 

Tom  {mthing  to  tat  her  honesti/):  **Is  there  any  differ, 
ence  between  a  York  ahillbg  and  a  shilling  of  British  oui^ 
renoyf 

Old  woman  {evasively):  **l  guess  not  Is  there  not  a 
place  in  Rjgland  called  Yorkl"  {Looking  up  and  leering 
knowingly  in  hiifiue.) 

"  Tom  {laughing) :  "  You  are  not  going  to  come  York 
over  me  in  that  way,  or  Yankee  either.  There  is  threepence 
for  your  pound  of  bran ;  you  are  enormously  paid." 

Old  woman  {calling  after  him) :  **  But  the  recipe ;  do  you 
allow  nothing  for  the  recipe  V* 

Tom :  "  It  is  included  in  the  price  of  the  bran." 
'   "  And  so,"  sud  he,  "  I  came  laughing  away,  rejoicing  in  my 
deeve  that  I  had  disappointed  the  avaricious  old  cheat." 

The  next  thing  to  be  done  was  to  set  the  bran  risbag.  By 
the  help  of  Tom*s  recipe,  it  was  duly  mixed  in  the  ooffefr-pot, 
and  placed  widiin  a  tin  pan,  foil  of  hot  water,  by  the  ride  of 
the  foe.  I  have  often  heard  it  said  that  a  watched  pot  never 
boils ;  and  there  certainly  was  no  lack  of  watchers  in  this  case. 
Tom  sat  for  hours  r^arding  it  with  his  lai^e  heavy  eyes,  the 
maid  inspected  it  from  time  to  time,  and  scarce  ten  minutes 
were  sufifored  to  elapse  without  my  testing  the  heat  of  the  water, 
and  tlie  state  of  the  emptyings;  but  the  day  slipped  slowly 
away,  and  night  drew  on,  and  yet  the  watched  pot  gave  no 
signs  of  vitality.  Tom  sighed  deeply  when  he  .sat  down  to 
(ca  with  the  old  fare. 

"  Never  mind,"  said  he,  "  we  shall  get  some  good  bread  fai 


;:i|f 


keep  yoa  fbt 

^jr    {Tfie  old 
quart  of  bran.) 


lere  anj  differ. 
;  of  British  our. 

Is  there  not  a 
up  and  leering 

to  come  York 
ere  is  threepence 
paid." 
9  recipe ;  do  you 

)ran." 

Y,  rejoicing  in  my 
old  cheat.** 
bran  rising.  By 
in  the  ooflee-pot, 
>r,  by  the  side  of 
atched  pot  never 
chers  in  this  case. 
>  heavy  eyes,  the 
uve  ten  minutei 
lieat  of  the  water, 
f  slipped  slowly 
faed  pot  gave  no 
he  sat  down  to 

le  good  bread  fai 


MY  FIRST  OANADUN  LOAt. 


m 


the  morning ;  it  mutt  get  up  by  tliat  time,  I  will  ^t  till  then. 
I  oouM  iJmoat  starve  before  I  could  touch  these  leaden  cakes." 

Hie  teachings  were  removed.  Tom  took  up  his  flute,  and 
oommenced  a  series  of  the  wildest  voluntary  airs  that  ever 
were  breathed  forth  by  human  lungs.  Mad  jigs,  to  vdiioh  the 
gravest  of  mankind  might  have  cut  eccentric  capers.  We 
were  all  convulsed  with  laughter.  In  Uie  midst  of  one  of 
these  droll  movements,  Tom  suddenly  hopped  Uke  a  kangaroo 
(which  feat  he  performed  by  raiung  lumself  upon  tip4oes,  theo 
flinging  himself  forward  with  a  stooping  jerk),  towards  the 
hearth,  and  squinting  down  into  the  coffee-pot  in  the  moat 
quizncal  manner,  exclaimed,  **  Miserable  chaff!  If  that  does 
not  make  you  rise,  nothing  will." 

I  left  the  bran  all  night  by  the  fire.  Early  in  the  morning 
I  had  the  satisfaction  of  finding  that  it  had  risen  high  above 
the  rim  of  the  pot,  and  was  surrounded  by  a  iine  crown  of 
bubbles. 

"  Better  late  than  never,"  thought  I,  as  I  emptied  die 
emptyings  into  my  flour.  "  Tom  is  not  up  yet  I  will  make 
him  so  happy  with  a  loaf  of  new  bread,  nice  home-baked 
bread,  for  his  breakfast"  It  was  my  first  Canadian  loaC  I 
felt  quite  proud  of  it,  as  I  placed  it  in  the  odd  machine  in  whiob 
it  was  to  be  baked.  I  did  not  understand  the  method  of  bi^ 
king  in  these  ovens ;  or  that  my  bread  should  have  remained 
in  the  kettle  for  half-an-hour,  until  it  had  risen  the  second 
time,  before  I  applied  the  fire  to  it,  in  order  that  the  bread 
should  be  light.  It  not  only  required  experience  to  know 
when  it  was  in  a  fit  state  for  baking,  but  the  oven  should  have 
been  brought  to  a  proper  temperature  to  receive  the  bread. 
Ignorant  of  all  this,  I  put  my  unrisen  loaf  into  a  cold  kettle, 
and  heaped  a  large  qiumtity  of  hot  ashes  above  and  below  it 
The  first  intimation  I  had  of  the  result  of  my  experiment  waa 
the  disagreeable  odour  of  burning  bread  filling  the  house. 


I- 


00 


MOUOHmo  IT  IN  THE  BUStt. 


"  What  ia  this  horrid  smell  T  cried  Tom,  isBuhig  from  Kb 
domioUe,  in  his  shirtsleeves.  **  Do  open  the  door,  Bell  {to  tk$ 
maid) ;  I  feel  quite  sick." 

*<  It  is  the  bread,"  said  I,  taking  off  the  lid  of  the  oven  with 
the  tongs.    *<  Dear  me,  it  is  all  burnt !" 

"  And  smells  as  sour  as  yinegar,"  says  he.  ''The  black 
bread  of  Sparta!" 

Alas !  for  my  maiden  loaf!  With  a  rueful  fiice  I  placed  it 
on  the  breakfiist-table.  "  1  hoped  to  hare  gireh  you  a  treat, 
but  I  fear  you  will  find  it  worse  than  the  cakes  in  the  pan." 

"  You  may  be  sure  of  that,"  said  Tom,  as  he  st-jck  his 
hnife  into  the  loaf,  and  drew  it  forth  covered  with  raw  dough. 
"  Oh,  Mrs.  Moodie  !  I  hope  you  make  better  books  than 
bread." 

We  were  all  sadly  disappointed.  The  others  submitted  to 
my  fiulure  good-naturedly,  and  made  it  the  subject  of  many 
droll,  but  not  unkindly,  witticisms.  For  myself,  I  could  have 
home  the  severest  infliction  from  the  pen  of  the  most  formi. 
dable  critic  with  more  fortitude  than  I  bore  the  cutting  up  of 
my  first  loaf  of  bread.  After  breakfast,  Moodie  and  Wilson 
rode  into  the  town ;  and  when  they  returned  at  night  brought 
several  long  letters  for  me.  Ah !  those  first  kind  letters  from 
home !  Never  shall  I  forget  the  rapture  with  which  I  grasped 
them — ^tbe  eager,  trembling  haste  with  which  I  tore  them 
open,  while  the  blinding  tears  which  filled  my  eyes  hindered 
me  for  some  minutes  from  reading  a  word  which  they  oon> 
tinned.  Sixteen  years  have  slowly  passed  away — it  appears 
half  a  century — but  never,  never  can  home  letters  give  me  the 
intense  joy  those  letters  did.  After  seven  years'  exile,  the 
hope  of  return  grows  feeble,  the  means  are  still  les«  in  oar 
power,  and  our  friends  give  up  all  hope  of  our  return ;  their 
letters  grow  fewer  and  older,  their  expressions  of  attadnnent 
are  leas  Tivid ;  the  heart  has  formed  new  ties,  and  the  pool' 


iflBumg  from  Kb 
cloor,  B«U  (A>  tkt 

of  the  oven  wUk 

be.    •'Tbe  black 

1  fiice  I  placed  H 
ireh  you  a  treat, 
es  in  the  pan." 
as  he  st'jck  hia 
with  raw  dough, 
stter  books  than 

lers  submitted  to 
subject  of  many 
lelf,  I  could  have 
the  most  foimi- 
the  cutting  up  of 
odie  and  Wilson 
at  night  brought 
kind  letters  from 
which  I  grasped 
ich  I  tore  them 
ly  eyes  hindered 
which  they  oon> 
iway — it  appears 
tters  give  me  the 
years'  exfle,  the 
I  still  les«  in  our 
>ur  nitum ;  their 
ns  of  attachment 
»,  and  the  poof 


TUM  WllStirS  DKPARrURB. 

emigrant  is  nearly  forgotten.  Double  those  years,  and  it  is  ai 
if  the  grave  had  closed  over  you,  and  the  hearts  that  onot 
knew  and  loved  you,  know  you  no  more. 

Tom,  too,  had  a  large  packet  of  letters,  which  he  read  with 
great  glee.  After  re-perusing  them,  he  declared  his  intention 
of  setting  oiT  on  his  return  home  the  next  day.  We  tried  to 
persuade  him  to  stay  until  the  following  spring,  and  make  ft 
fiur  trial  of  the  country.  Arguments  were  thrown  away  upon 
him  ;  the  next  morning  our  eccentric  friend  was  ready  to 
start 

'* Good-bye!"  quoth  he,  shaking  me  by  the  hand  as  if  he 
meant  to  sever  it  from  the  wrist.  *'  When  next  we  meet  it 
will  be  in  New  South  Wales,  and  I  hope  by  that  time  you  will 
know  how  to  make  better  bread."  And  thus  ended  Tom  Wil* 
■on'a  emignti<m  to  Canada.  He  brought  out  three  h\:ndied 
pounds,  British  currency ;  he  remained  in  the  country  just  four 
months,  and  returned  to  England  with  barely  enouga  to  p»j 
hia  passage  bom*. 


Mouanim  it  m  ths  auaa. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


UVOLB    JOB    A»D    HIS    »AIIItT. 

•  A»  Tonr  rogue  !■  •  laughing  rogu«,  »nd  not  >  whil  tb«  lew  «*»«•""•.**•'* 
«^  J;  W.  ijfwh  h  come.  ^AtL  »  hon«t  h.«t.  '•''f  "«««•  J*' '^'^ 
Z  «,a?.hn.u^i  th.  .y.  All  1.  hollow  .nd  dTk  wUhln ;  .nd  ">•«""»«»»  f  ."* 
{J!!rk.lhe  pho.pho,lc  glow  upo»  d«c.y.d  Umber,  oDly  *.r»«  to  polal  out  th. 
fotlanDea  wtthla." 


UNCLE  JOE !  I  see  him  now  before  me,  with  Ws  jolly  red 
face,  twinkling  blacli  eyes,  and  rubicund  nose.  No  thin, 
weasel-faced  Yankee  was  he,  looking  as  if  he  had  lived  upon 
cute  ideas  and  speculations  all  his  life;  yet  Yankee  he  was  by 
birth,  ay,  and  in  mind  too;  for  a  more  knowing  fellow  at  a 
bargain  never  crossed  the  lakes  to  abuse  Britfah  institutions 
and  locate  himself  comfortably  among  the  despised  Britishers. 
But,  then,  he  had  such  a  good-natured,  fat  fiice,  such  a  mis. 
chievous,  mirth-loving  smUe,  and  such  a  merry,  rogufah  ex 
pression  in  those  small,  jet-black,  glittering  eyes,  that  you 
suffered  yourself  to  be  taken  in  by  him,  without  offermg  the 
least  resistance  to  his  impositions. 

Uncle  Joe's  father  had  been  a  New  England  loyalist,  and 
his  doubtful  attachment  to  the  British  government  had  been 

repaid  by  a  grant  of  land  in  the  township  of  H .  He  was 

the  first  settler  in  that  township,  and  chose  his  location  in  a 
remote  spot,  for  the  sake  of  a  beautiful  natural  spring,  which 
bubbled  up  in  a  small  stone  basin  in  the  green  bank  at  th# 
back  of  the  house. 


ILT. 

leM  d«ng«rom  for  tka 
leh  rellaeu  the  light  of 
■d  lb*  eontortlon  of  lb* 
orrM  to  poiDt  out  tha 


with  Wa  jolly  red 
d  nose.  No  tlun, 
16  had  lived  upon 
Yankee  he  was  by 
lowing  fellow  at  a 
Britkh  institutions 
lespised  Britishers. 
t  fitce,  such  a  mis* 
nerry,  roguish  ex 
ng  eyes,  that  you 
rithout  offering  the 

igland  loyalist,  and 
remment  had  been 

)f  H .  He  was 

se  his  location  in  a 
ttural  spring,  which 
1  green  bank  at  the 


OSCLS  JoK  AND  HIS  FAMILT,  •• 

«  Father  might  iiftve  had  the  pick  of  the  township,"  quoth 
Uncle  Joe;  '•  but  the  old  coon  preferred  that  sup  of  good 
water  to  the  site  of  a  town.      Well,  I  gaess  it's  seldom  I 
trouble  the  spring ;  and  whenever  I  step  that  way  to  water  the 
horses,  I  think  what  a  tarnation  fool  the  old  one  was,  to  throw 
away  such  a  chance  of  making  his  fiirtune,  for  such  cold  lap.'* 
"  Your  father  was  a  temperance  man  1" 
"Temperance !— He  had  been  fond  enough  of  the  whiskey 
bottle  in  his  day.    He  drank  up  a  good  farm  in  the  United 
States,  and  then  he  thought  he  could  not  do  better  than  turn 
loyal,  and  get  one  here  for  nothing.     He  did  not  care  a  cent, 
not  he,  for  the  King  of  England.  He  thought  himself  as  good, 
my  how.  But  he  found  that  he  would  have  to  work  hard  here 
to  scratch  along,  and  he  was  mightily  plagued  with  the  rheu- 
matics,  and  some  old  woman  told  him  that  good  spring-water 
was  the  best  cure  for  that;  so  he  chose  this  poor,  light,  stony 
land  on  account  of  the  spring,  and  took  to  Imrd  work  and 
drinking  cold  water  in  his  old  age." 

*'  How  did  the  change  agree  with  him  T 
"  I  guess  better  than  could  have  been  expected.   He  plant- 
cd  that  fine  orchard,  and  cleared  his  hundred  acres,  and  we 
got  along  slick  enough  as  long  as  the  old  fellow  lived." 

«  And  what  happened  after  his  death,  that  obliged  you  to 
part  with  your  land  1" 

«  Bad  timea— bad  crops,"  said  Uncle  Joe,  lifting  his  shoul- 
ders. "J  had  not  my  father's  way  of  scraping  money  to- 
gether.  I  made  some  deuced  clever  speculations,  but  they  all 
failed.  I  married  young,  and  got  a  large  family ;  and  the 
women  critters  ran  up  heavy  bills  at  the  stores,  and  the  crops 
did  not  yield  enough  to  pay  them ;  and  from  bad  we  got  to 

worse,  and  Mr.  C put  in  an  execution,  and  seized  upon 

the  whole  concern.    He  sold  it  to  your  man  for  double  what 
it  cost  him  ;  and  you  got  all  what  my  father  toiled  for  during 


^Sirp-s 


""T'^WWP^ 


^^^w^PfTc 


w 


fe 


OA  ,  BOUQHtNQ  IT  IN  TBK  BUSh. 

the  last  twenty  yean  of  his  life  for  lea.  than  h«lf  tbe  OMh  ta 

lud  out  upon  dewing  it" 

"And  had  the  whiskey  nolhing  to  do  with  Uus  changer 
•aid  I,  looking  Wm  in  the  face  suspiciously. 

«Not  a  bit!  When  a  man  gets  into  diffioultiea,  it  is  the 
ooly  thing  to  keep  him  fifom  sinking  outright  When  your 
husband  has  had  as  many  troubles  as  I  have  had,  he  wiU  know 
how  to  value  the  whiskey  bottle." 

This  conversation  was  interrupted  by  a  queer-looking  ur- 
chin  of  five  years  old,  dressed  in  a  long-taUed  coat  and  trow- 
sets,  popping  his  black  shock  head  in  at  the  door,  and  calling 

out, 

«  Unde  Joe  I— You're  wanted  to  hum." 

••  Is  that  your  nephew  T 

«  No !  I  guess  'tis  my  woman's  eldest  son,"  said  Unde  Joe, 
rinng, "  but  they  oaU  me  Unde  Joe.  Tis  a  w>ry  chap  that— 
as  ouining  as  a  fox.  I  tell  you  what  it  is-he  will  make  a 
smart  man.    Go  home,  Ammon,  and  teU  your  ma  that  I  am 

«»naig."  ,  - .  „  1. 

«« I  won't,"  said  the  boy ;  "  you  may  go  hum  and  teU  her 
yourself.    She  has  wanted  wood  cut  this  hour,  and  you'U 

Away  ran  the  dutiful  son,  but  not  before  he  had  applied 
Us  forefinger  significantly  to  the  side  of  his  nose,  and,  with  • 
knowing  wink,  pointed  in  the  direction  of  home. 

Unde  Joe  obeyed  tiie  sigpal,  dryly  remarking  tiiat  he  could 
not  leave  tiie  bam  door  without  tiie  old  hen  ducking  him  back. 

At  tiiis  period  we  were  still  Uving  in  Old  Satan's  log  hou«s 
and  anxiously  looking  out  for  tiie  first  snow  tp  put  us  in  pos. 
session  of  tiie  good,  substantial  log  dweUing  occupied  by  Un 
de  Joe  and  his  fkmily,  whid.  consisted  of  a  brown  brood  of 
seven  girls,  and  tiie  highly-prixed  boy  who  ngoibed  in  the  e» 
tavoidiaary  name  of  Ammon. 


half  tbe  oaah  bfl 

ththis  change  1" 

BoultiM,  it  is  the 
[ht  When  your 
hadjheiriUknow 

queer-looldng  ur- 

»d  coat  and  trow- 

door,  and  calling 


I,"  aaid  Unde  Joe, 
I  »pry  chap  that  - 
^he  will  make  a 
'our  mA  that  I  am. 

hum  and  tell  her 
I  hour,  and  youll 

ore  he  had  applied 
I  nooe,  and,  wiUi  • 
tome. 

irking  that  he  could 
dudung  bim  back, 
d  Satan's  log  houM, 
ir  tp  put  us  in  po» 
Dg  occupied  by  Un 
a  brown  brood  of 
r^ibedinthe  er 


mrOLE  JOS  AND  Hm  FAMtir.  8» 

Stnnge  names  are  to  be  foimd  in  this  free  country.    What 
think  you,  gentle  reader,  of  Solomon  5/y,  Beynard  Ihx,  and 
Hiram  DoolUae;  all  reiitable  names,  and  belonging  to  sub- 
alantial  yeomen  1    After  Ammon  and  Ichabod,  I  should  not 
be  at  all  surprised  to  meet  with  Jndas  Isoariot,  Pilate,  and 
Herod.    And  then  the  female  appellations!    But  the  subject 
is  a  delicate  one,  and  I  will  forbear  to  toudi  upon  it    I  haT» 
snjoyed  many  a  hearty  laugh  over  the  strange  a&otations 
which  people  designate  here  very  handtome  namti.    I  prefer 
the  old  homely  Jewish  names,  such  as  that  which  it  pleased 
my  god&ther  and  godmothers  to  bestow  up<m  me,  to  one  of 
those  higlwounding  Christianities,  the  Minervas,  Onderellas, 
and  Almerias  of  Ctoada.    The  love  of  singular  names  is  here 
carried  to  a  marvellous  extent.    It  is  only  yesterday  that,  k 
passing  throv^  one  buiy  village,  I  stopped  in  astonishment 
before  a  tombstone  headed  thus:— "Sacred  to  tiie  memory 
of  Siknee  Sharman,  tiie  bdoved  wife  of  Asa  Sharman."   Waa 
tiie  woman  deaf  and  dumb,  or  did  her  friends  hope  by  be- 
stowing  upon  her  sudi  an  impossibte  name  to  still  the  voice 
of  Nature,  and  check,  by  an  admonitory  appellative,  the 
active  spirit  that  lives  in  the  tongue  of  woman.    Truly,  Asa 
Sharman,  if  thy  wife  was  dlent  by  nature  aa  well  as  by  name, 
thou  wert  a  fortunate  man ! 

But  to  return  to  Unde  Joe.  He  made  many  fior  premp 
ises  of  leaving  the  reddmce  we  had  bou^t,  the  moment 
he  had  sold  his  crops  and  could  remove  Us  fiunOy.  We 
could  see  no  interest  which  could  be  served  by  his  deoeivfaig 
us,  and  thereftwe  we  believed  him,  striving  to  make  ourselvea 
ae  comfortable  as  we  could  in  the  mean  tnne  in  our  present 
wietf^ed  abode.  But  matters  are  never  so  bad  but  that  they 
may  be  worse.    One  day  when  we  were  at  dfamer,  a  wagon 

drove  up  to  the  door,  and  Mr. alight»d,  accompanied  by 

a  fine-looking,  middl»«ged  man,  who  jwoved  to  be  Oaptaia 


-vi 


BOVOBtNG  IT  tN  THE  BOSBi 

8 ^  ^Im,  had  just  arrived  from  Demerara  with  Wa  wife 

and  fcmily.   Mr. ,  who  had  purchased  the  farm  of  Old  Sfr 

tan,  had  brought  Qiptain  S over  to  inspect  the  land,  ai 

he  wished  to  buy  a  ikrm,  and  settle  in  that  neighbourhood. 
Witt  some  difficulty  I  contrived  to  accommodate  the  visitora 
with  seata,  and  provide  them  with  a  tolerable  dinner.  Foit 
tonately,  Moodie  had  brought  in  a  brace  of  fine  fet  P«^  Jj* 
that  momfag;  these  the  servant  transferred  to  a  pot  of  bob. 
hg  water,  in  which  she  immersed  them  for  the  space  of  * 
minute-*  novel  but  very  expeditious  way  of  removing  fte 
feathers,  which  then  come  off  at  the  least  touch.  In  less  than 
ten  minutes  they  were  stuffed, tnissed,  and  in  the  balteJcettle; 
and  before  the  gentlemen  returned  firom  walking  over  the 
fiuTO,  the  dinner  was  on  the  table. 

To  our  utter  consternation,  Captain  S agreed  to  pw. 

chase,  and  asked  if  we  could  give  him  possession  ta  a  week ! 

« Good  heavens!"  cried  I,  glancing  reproachfiilly  at  Mr. 

,  vho  was  discussing  his  partridge  with  stoical  indiflfeiu 

enoe.'   "What  will  become  of  us  1    Where  are  we  to  go  1" 

«  Oh,  make  yourself  easy ;  I  wiU  force  that  old  witch, 
Joe's  mother,  to  dear  out"  ^ 

«  But  'tis  impossible  to  stow  ourselves  into  that  pig-sty. 

"  It  wiU  only  be  for  a  week  or  two,  at  ferthest    TWa  ia 
October  J  Joe  will  be  sure  to  be  off  by  the  first  of  the  aleig^. 

ing." 

««But  if  she  refiises  to  give  up  the  place  1" 

••  Oh,  leave  her  to  me.  FU  talk  her  over,"  said  the  know, 
ing  land  speculator.  "Let  it  come  to  the  worst,"  he  said, 
turning  to  my  husband,  «  she  will  go  out  for  the  sake  of  a  few 
dollars.  By  the  by,  she  reflised  to  bar  the  dower  when  I 
bought  the  place;  we  must  o^o^e  her  out  of  that  It  is  a  fine 
afternoon;  suppose  we  walk  over  the  hill,  and  tiy  o«ir  look 
with  the  old  nigger  1" 


mw 


0* 


'^mm^^m^mefm 


■an  with  Mi  trife 
le  farm  of  Old  S»i 
spect  the  l»nd,M 
Bt  neighbourhood, 
odate  the  visiton 
Me  dinner.    Foit 
fine  &t  partridgw 
i  to  •  pot  of  bd»> 
\xt  the  apace  of  « 
r  of  remoTing  tin 
tuck    In  leas  than 
in  thebakeJcettle; 
walking  over  the 

—  agreed  to  pur. 
eanoninawedc! 

proachfiilly  a*  ^* 
ith  atoioal  indifieffe 
«  are  we  to  go  1** 
>ce  that  old  witch, 

into  that  pig-aty." 
itfiu-theat    Thiaii 
B  firat  of  the  dd^ 

81" 

rer,"  swd  the  know- 
the  worst,"  he  aaid, 
or  the  sake  of  a  few 
the  dower  when  I 
of  that  Itiaafina 
II,  and  try  our  look 


mtCLE  JOS  AND  HIS  FAMILT. 


m 


1  felt  ao  amdoua  about  the  result  of  the  negotiatiou,  that, 
throwing  my  doak  over  my  shoulders,  and  tying  on  my  bon- 
net without  (he  assistance  of  a  glaaa,  I  took  my  husband'a 
arm,  and  we  walked  forth.  It  was  a  brigh^  dear  afternoon, 
the  first  week  in  October,  and  the  Aiding  woods,  not  yet 
denuded  of  their  gorgeous  foliage,  glowed  in  a  mellow,  golden 
light  A  soft  purple  haze  rested  on  the  bold  outline  of  the 
Haldemand  hUls,  and  in  the  rugged  beauty  of  the  wild  landr 
scape  I  soon  forgot  the  purport  of  our  visit  to  the  old 
woman's  log  hut 

On  reaching  the  ridge  of  the  hill,  the  lovely  vaUey  in 
which  our  fiiture  home  lay,  smiled  peacefiilly  upon  ua  fipom 
amidst  its  fruitful  orchards,  still  loaded  with  their  rich,  ripe 

fruit.  .    -      ^ 

"  What  a  pretty  place  it  is !"  thought  I,  for  the  first  time 
feeling  something  like  a  local  interest  in  the  spot  springing  up 
in  my  heart  «  How  I  wish  those  odious  people  would  giva 
us  possession  of  the  home  which  for  some  time  has  been 

our  own." 

The  log  hut  tliat  we  were  approaching,  and  in  which  the  old 

woman,  H ,  resided  by  herself— having  quarrelled  yeara 

ago  with  her  eon's  wife— was  of  the  smallest  dimendou, 
only  contMning  one  room,  which  served  the  old  dame  for 
kitdien,  and  bedroom,  and  aU.  The  open  door,  and  a  few 
glaced  panea,  auppUed  it  with  light  and  air;  whfle  a  huge 
hearth,  on  wMch  oraokled  two  enormous  logs— which  are 
technically  termed  a  front  and  a  back  stick— took  up  nearly 
half  the  domicUe ;  and  the  old  woman's  bed,  which  was  cot- 
ered  with  an  unexoeptionably  dean  patched  quilt^  nearly  the 
other  half;  leaving  just  room  for  a  small  home^nade  deal 
teble,  of  the  rudest  workmanship,  two  basswood-bottomed 
diairs,  stained  red,  one  of  which  was  a  rocking-chair,  ^propri^ 
ated  sddy  to  the  old  wt  man's  use,  and  a  spinning-wheel 

R 


;i.,,,gi#Ss^ 


i^>*»*" 


gil  KovQBim  IT  m  the  busk. 

Amidst  this  muddle  of  thing»— for  small  as  was  the  quantum 
of  ftirniture,  it  was  all  crowded  into  sudi  a  tiny  space  that 
you  had  to  squeeze  your  way  through  it  in  the  best  mannor 
you  could — we  found  the  old  woman,  with  a  red  cotton  hand 
kerchief  tied  over  her  gray  locks,  hood-fashion,  shelUng  whil« 
bush-beans  into  a  wooden  bowl.  Without  riring  from  her 
seat,  she  pointed  to  the  only  remaining  chair.  "I  guess, 
miss,  you  can  sit  there;  and  if  the  others  can't  stand,  they 
can  make  a  seat  of  my  bed." 

The  gentlemen  assured  her  that  they  were  not  tired,  and 

could  dispense  with  seats.    Mr. then  went  up  to  the  old 

woman,  and  proffering  his  hand,  asked  after  her  health  in  his 
blandest  manner. 

«*  I'm  none  the  better  for  seeing  you,  ok  the  like  of  you," 
was  the  ungracious  reply.  "  You  have  cheated  my  poor  boy 
out  of  Ws  good  fiurm;  and  I  l»pe  h  may  prove  a  bad  bargwn 
to  you  and  yours." 

"Mrs.  H ^  returned  the  land  speculator,  nothing  ruf. 

fled  by  her  unceremonious  greeting,  "  1  could  not  help  your 
■on  giving  way  to  drink,  and  getting  into  my  debt  If  people 
will  be  so  imprudent,  they  cannot  be  so  stupid  as  to  imagine 
that  others  can  sufler  for  their  folly." 

**Stifffr  repeated  the  old  woman,  flashing  her  small, 
keen  black  eyes  upon  him  with  a  glance  of  withering  scorn. 
**You  sufler!  I  wondor  what  the  widows  and  orphans  yon 
have  cheated  would  say  to  that  t  My  son  was  a  poor,  weak, 
■illy  fool,  to  be  sucked  in  by  the  like  of  you.  For  a  debt  of 
eight  hundred  dollars— the  goods  never  cost  you  four  hundred 

yon  take  from  us  our  good  form;  and  these,  I  s'pose," 

p^ting  to  my  husband  and  me,  "  are  the  folk  you  sold  it  to, 
Praj,  miss,"  tumfaig  quickly  to  me,  "what  might  your  maa 
give  for  the  placet" 

"lliree  hundred  pounds  in  cash." 


.iptu  ly  I  J,  II  III  ii|i! 


',■•4'  H*.. 


"i-f.-'iSH 


E 

was  the  quantum 
i  tiny  space  that 
I  the  best  manner 
k  red  cotton  hand 
ion,  shelling  whit/a 
it  riring  from  her 
chair.  "I  gneaa, 
I  can't  stand,  they 

^ere  not  tired,  and 
vent  up  to  the  old 
r  her  health  in  his 

the  like  of  you," 
ated  my  poor  boy 
ore  a  bad  bargwn 

iilator,  notlung  ru£ 
)uld  not  help  your 
y  debt  If  people 
ipid  as  to  imagina 

lashing  her  small, 
if  withering  soom. 
and  orphans  you 
was  a  poor,  weak, 
>u.  For  a  debt  of 
t  you  four  hundred 
d  these,  I  s'pose,** 
folk  you  sold  it  Uk 
It  might  your : 


mrazx  job  astd  ms  family.  ••' 

•*  Poor  sufierer  !**  again  sneered  the  hag.  "  Four  hundred 
ddlars  is  a  yery  tmotf  profit  in  as  many  weeks.  Well,  I 
guess,  you  beat  the  Yankees  hoUow.  And  pray,  what  brouj^t 
you  here  to-day,  scenting  about  you  like  a  carrion-crow  1  We 
have  no  more  land  for  you  to  seize  from  us." 

Moodie  now  stepped  forward,  and  briefly  explained  our 
situation,  ofiering  the  old  woman  any  thing  in  reason  to  give 
ap  the  cottage  and  rende  with  her  son  until  he  removed  from 
tiie  premises ;  whidi,  he  added,  must  be  in  a  very  short  time. 
The  old  dame  regarded  him  with  a  sarcastic  smile.  "I 
guess,  Joe  wUl  take  his  own  time.  The  house  is  not  built 
whidi  is  to  receive  him;  and  he  is  not  a  man  to  turn  his 
bade  up<m  a  warm  hearth  to  camp  to  the  wilderness.  You 
were  grtm  when  you  bought  a  flmn  of  tiiat  man,  widioat 
getting  along  with  it  the  right  of  posseseion." 

"But,  Mrs.  H ,  your  son  promised  to  go  out  the  first 

ofsleic^ing." 

"  Wheugh!"  said  the  old  woman.  "Would  you  have  • 
man  give  away  his  hat  and  leave  his  own  head  barel  It's 
neitiier  tiie  first  snow  nor  the  last  fix)8t  tiiat  will  turn  Joe  out 
<^  his  oomfortAble  home.  I  teUyou  aUUiathewiUstay  here, 
if  it  is  only  to  plague  you.** 

Threats  and  remonstrances  were  alike  useless,  the  old 
woman  remamed  toexorable;  and  we  were  just  turning  to 
leave  the  house,  when  tiie  cunning  old  fox  exclaimed,  "And 
now,  what  will  you  pve  me  to  leave  my  place  1** 

"Twelve  dollars,  if  you  give  us  possossiwi  next  Monday," 

Ipid  my  husband. 

"Twelve  dollars!    I  guess  you  won*t  get  me  out  for  tiiat** 
"The  rent  would  not  be  wortii  more  than  a  dollar  a 

montiH**  said  Mr. ^  pdnting  witii  his  cane  to  tin  dilap- 

idatad  wallsL    "  Mr.  Moodie  has  ofiered  you  a  year's  rent  foi 

Ae  place." 


too 


BOUQBINa  IT  IN  THE  BUSB. 


ff^.' 


m- 


« It  nuy  not  be  worth  »  cent,"  returned  the  woman ;  "  for 
it  wai  give  every  body  the  rheumatism  that  stays  a  weelt  ii 
h— but  it  is  worth  that  to  me,  and  more  nor  double  that  just 
now  to  him.  But  I  will  not  be  hard  with  him,"  continued 
die,  rooking  herself  to  and  fro.  "Say  twenty  dollars,  and  I 
will  turn  out  on  Monday." 

« I  dare  say  you  wUl,"  said  Mr. ,  "and  who  do  you 

think  would  be  fool  enough  to  give  you  such  an  exorbitant 
•um  for  a  ruined  old  shed  like  this  ?"  ^ 

«•  Mind  your  own  business,  and  make  your  own  bargains, 
letumed  the  old  woman,  tartly.    "The  devil  himself  could 
not  deal  with  you,  for  I  guess  he  would  have  the  worst  of  it 
What  do  you  say,  sirl"  and  she  iixed  her  keen  eyes  upon  my 
husband,  as  if  she  would  read  his  thoughts.    "  WiU  you  agree 

to  my  price?" 

"It  is  a  very  high  one,  Mm.  H ;  but  as  I  cannot  help 

myself,  and  you  take  advantage  of  that,  I  suppose  I  must 

give  it" 

« Tis  a  bar^in,"  cried  the  old  crone,  holding  out  her 

hari,  bony  hand.    "  Oome,  cash  down  I" 

«Not  until  you  j^ve  me  possession  on  Monday  next;  or 
you  might  serve  me  as  your  son  has  done." 

"Hal"  said  the  old  woman,  laughing  and  rubbing  her 
hinds  together;  "you  begin  to  see  daylight,  do  you?  In  » 
few  months,  with  the  help  of  him,"  pointing  to  Mr.  — — » 
"you  will  be  able  to  go  alone;  but  have  a  care  of  your 
teacher,  for  it?8  no  good  that  you  will  learn  from  him.  But 
wiU  you  reaUy  stand  to  your  word,  mister  1"  she  added,  ta  * 
coaxing  tone,  "  if  I  go  out  (m  Monday  ?" 

••  To  be  sure  I  ^U ;  I  never  break  my  word." 
«  Well,  I  guess  you  aire  not  so  clever  as  our  people,  tat 
^they  only  keep  it  as  long  as  it  suit*  them.    You  have  an  hon. 
est  look ;  T  will  trust  you ;  but  I  will  not  trust  him,"  nodding 


I 


.  v3V!i::.fc'..t.MJpJI|5!|!illJ!|»«!W!?' 


UNCLE  JOR  AND  BIS  FAMILY. 


101 


le woman;  "for 
stays  a  week  ii 
doable  that  just 
lum,"  continued 
ity  dollars,  and  I 

and  who  do  you 
di  an  exorbitant 

ir  own  bai^;uns,*' 
ril  himself  could 
a  the  worst  of  it 
sen  eyes  upon  my 
"  Will  you  agree 

t  as  I  cannot  help 
[  suppose  I  must 

,  holding  out  her 

Monday  next;  or 

and  rubbing  her 
5ht,doyou?  In» 
ling  to  Mr.  — -^ 
e  a  care  of  your 
n  firom  him.  But 
r  die  added,  to  * 

word." 

as  oiir  people,  fat 
You  have  an  hoiw 

xust  him,"  nodding 


(0  Mr. ^  "he  can  buy  and  sell  his  word  as  fiut  as  a  horss 

can  trot    So  on  Monday  I  will  turn  out  my  traps.    I  hava 
Uved  here  six-and-thirty  years;  'tis  a  pretty  place,  and  it 
vexes  me  to  leave  it,"  continued  the  poor  creature,  as  a  touch 
of  natural  feeling  softened  and  agitated  her  world-hardened 
heart    "There  is  not  an  acre  in  cultivation  but  I  helped  \a 
dear  it,  nor  a  tree  m  yonder  orchard  but  I  held  it  while  my 
poor  man,  who  is  dead  and  gone,  planted  it;  and  I  have 
watched  the  trees  bud  from  year  to  year,  untU  their  bought 
overshadowed  the  hut  where  aU  my  children,  but  Joe,  were 
bom.    Yes,  I  came  here  young,  and  in  my  prime;  and  I  must 
leave  it  in  age  and  poverty.    My  children  and  husband  are 
dead,  and  their  bones  rest  beneath  the  turf  in  the  burying, 
ground  on  the  side  of  the  hUl.  Of  all  that  once  gathered  about 
my  knees,  Joe  and  his  young  ones  alone  remafai.    And  it  li 
hard,  very  hard,  that  I  must  leaye  their  graves  to  be  turned 
by  the  plough  of  a  stranger." 

I  felt  for  the  desolate  old  creature— the  tears  rushed  to 
my  eyes ;  but  there  was  no  moisture  in  hers.  No  rain  from 
the  heart  could  filter  through  that  iron  soil. 

"Be  assured,  Mrs.  H ,"  said  Moodie,  "that  the  dead 

will  be  held  sacred;  the  place  will  never  be  disturbed  by 

me" 

"Perhaps  not;  but  it  is  not  long  that  you  will  remain 
here.  I  have  seen  a  good  deal  in  my  time ;  but  I  never  saw 
a  gentleman  from  the  old  country  make  a  good  Canadian 
ftrmer.  The  work  is  rough  and  hard,  and  they  get  out  of  hu. 
mour  with  it,  and  leave  it  to  then:  hired  helps,  and  Uien  aU 
goes  wrong.  They  are  cheated  on  all  sides,  and  in  despair 
tale  to  the  whiskey  botUe,  and  that  fixes  them.  I  tell  you 
what  it  is,  mister— I  give  you  just  three  years  to  spend  youi 
money  and  ruin  yourself;  and  then  you  v  ill  become  a  con 
finned  drunkard,  like  the  rest" 


108 


B0U9HIN0  rr  IN  THE  BUSB. 


Hie  first  part  of  her  prophecy  ww  only  too  tnie.    Tlumk 
God !  the  last  has  never  been  AiMilled^  and  never  can  be. 

Perceiving  that  the  old  wonuu  was  not  a  little  elated  wiUi 

her  bargain,  Mr. urged  upon  her  the  propriety  of  bar> 

ring  the  dower.  At  first,  she  was  outrageous,  and  yery  abu- 
}ive,  and  rejected  all  his  proposals  with  contempt;  vowing 
that  she  would  meet  him  in  a  certain  place  below,  before  she 
would  sign  away  her  right  to  the  property. 

"  Listen  to  reason,  Mrs.  H  "  said  the  land  speculator 
"  If  you  will  sign  the  papers  before  the  proper  authcwitiea,  the 
next  time  your  waa  drives  you  to  C  ,  I  will  give  you  a  silk 
gown." 

"Pshaw!  Buy  a  shroud  for  yourself ;  you  will  need  it 
before  I  want  a  silk  gown,"  was  the  ui^racious  reply. 

**  Consider,  woman ;  a  black  silk  of  the  best  quality." 

'*To  mourn  in  for  my  sins,  or  for  the  losa  of  the 
tumV 

"  Twelve  yards,"  continued  lifr.  -—^  without  noticing  her 
rqoinder,  **  at  a  douar  a  yard.  Think  what  a  nke  ohurcit 
going  goMm  it  will  make." 

"  To  the  devil  with  you  1    I  never  go  to  church." 

"I  thought  as  mud^"  said  Mr. ^  winking  to  us.  "Wdl, 

my  dear  madam,  what  will  satisfy  you  V* 

**  ni  do  it  for  twenty  dollars,"  returned  the  old  woman, 
racking  herself  to  and  fro  in  her  chair ;  her  eyea  twinkling, 
and  her  hands  moving  oonvulsiTely,  aa  if  she  already  graqped 
the  m<mey  so  dear  to  her  aouL 

•*  Agreed,"  said  the  land  speculator.  **  When  will  you  ba 
mtownt" 

**  On  TViesday,  if  I  be  alive.  But,  remember,  Fll  not  i%B 
tOl  I  have  my  hand  on  the  money." 

**  Never  ftar,"  SMd  Mr. ,  as  we  quitted  the  hoosa; 

then,  turning  to  me,  he  added,  with  a  peuuliar  smiley  .^  Tlia^s 


^mmm 


too  tnie.  Thank 
never  can  be. 
little  elated  wiUi 
>ropriety  of  baiv 
»us,  and  very  abu< 
»ntempt;  vowing 
below,  before  ■be 

le  land  apeoulator 
wr  authwitiea,  the 
rill  give  you  a  silk 

you  will  need  it 
OU8  reply, 
best  quality." 

the  loos  of  the 

rithout  noticing  her 
hat  a  nice  ohurchi 

scfaurdi.'' 
kingtous.  "Wen, 

ed  the  old  woman, 
her  eyea  twinkling, 
be  already  grafted 

When  wiU  you  U 

nnber,  VU  not  i^ 

)u{tted  the  house; 
liarsnule^  ^That^s 


UyOZM  JOg  Aim  HIS  FAMtLT. 


IQt 


a  devilish  smart  woman.  She  would  have  made  a  devM 
lawjer." 

Monday  came,  and  with  it  all  the  bustle  of  moving,  and,  aa 
is  generally  the  case  <hi  such  occasions,  it  turned  out  a  very 
wet  day.  I  left  Old  Satan's  hut  without  regret,  glad,  at  any 
rate,  to  be  in  a  place  of  my  own,  however  humble.  Our  new 
habitation,  though  small,  had  a  decided  advantage  over  the 
oi:e  we  were  leaving.  It  stood  on  a  gentle  slope ;  and  a  nar> 
row  but  lovely  stream,  full  of  pretty  speckled  trout,  ran 
murmuring  under  the  little  window;  the  house,  also,  was 
surrounded  by  line  fruit-trees. 

I  know  not  how  it  wai\  but  the  sound  of  that  tinkling 
brook,  for  ever  rolling  by,  filled  my  heart  with  a  strange 
melancholy,  which  for  many  nights  deprived  me  of  rest.  I 
loved  it,  too.  Tbe  voice  of  waters,  in  the  stillness  of  night, 
always  had  an  extraordinary  eflfoct  upon  my  mind,  llieir 
ceaseless  motion  and  perpetual  sound  ccmvey  to  me  the  idea 
of  life— eternal  life ;  and  looking  upon  thmn,  glancing  and 
flashing  on,  now  in  sunshine,  now  in  shade,  now  hoarsely 
diiding  with  the  opposing  rode,  now  leaping  triumphantly 
over  it,— creates  witUn  me  a  feeling  of  mysterioua  awe  of 
irinch  I  never  oould  wholly  dhreat  mysel£ 

A  portion  of  my  own  spirit  seemed  to  pass  into  tiuit  little 
stream.  In  its  deep  wailings  and  fretfiil  sighs,  I  fknded  my« 
■elf  lamenting  for  Uie  land  I  had  left  for  ever ;  and  its  restlesB 
and  impetuous  rushings  against  the  stones  which  choked  its 
passage,  were  moumfol  types  of  my  own  mental  struggles 
agafant  the  strange  destiny  which  hemmed  me  in.  Throng 
the  day  the  stream  still  moaned  and  travelled  on, — ^bnt,  en- 
gaged ii» my  novel  and  distast^ul  oooupati<»s,  I  heard  it  not; 
but  whenever  my  winged  thoi^ts  flew  homeward,  then  the 
voice  of  tbe  brook  spiAe  deeply  and  sadly  to  my  heart,  and 
my  tear*  4k>wed  undieoked  to  its  plaintive  and  harmooioaa 
musia 


v1 


104 


ROUOHINO  IT  IN  THE  BOSH. 


In  a  few  hows  I  had  my  new  abode  mora  comiiirtobly 
MTMiged  Uisn  the  old  one,  although  its  dimensions  wero  mudi 
■nailer.  The  location  was  beautiful,  and  I  was  graatly  con> 
aoled  by  this  oiroumstanoe.  The  aspect  of  Naturo  ever  did, 
and  I  hope  ever  will  continue, 

**To  ahoot  nurrsnoiu  atrragth  Into  mj  hasrt" 

As  long  as  we  remain  true  to  the  Divine  Mother,  so  long  will 
die  remain  fidthful  to  her  suffering  children. 

At  that  period  my  love  for  Canada  was  a  feeling  very 
nearly  allied  to  that  which  the  condemned  criminal  entertaiu 
for  his  cell — ^his  only  hope  of  escape  being  through  the  portals 
of  the  grave. 

The  fell  rains  had  ocmmenced.  In  a  few  days  the  cold 
wintry  sbowen  swept  all  the  gorgeous  crimson  tnm.  the 
frees ;  and  a  bleak  and  desolate  waste  {wesented  itself  to  the 
shuddering  q>eotator.  But,  in  spite  of  wind  and  rain,  my 
little  tenement  was  never  free  from  the  intrusion  of  Uncle 
Joe's  wife  and  children.  Their  house  stood  about  a  stone's* 
throw  A>>m  the  hut  we  occupied,  in  the  same  meadow,  and 
they  aeer'oed  to  look  upon  it  still  as  their  own,  although  we 
had  literally  paid  for  it  twice  over.  Fine  straiqiing  girls  they 
were,  from  five  years  old  to  fourteen,  but  rude  and  unnui^ 
tared  as  so  many  bears.  Tbey  would  come  in  without  the 
least  ceremony,  and,  young  as  they  were,  ask  me  a  thousand 
impertinent  questions ;  and^when  I  civilly  requested  them  to 
leave  the  room,  they  would  range  themselves  upon  the  do(n<- 
step,  watdung  my  motions,  with  their  blade,  eyes  gleamii^ 
upon  me  throu^  their  tangled,  uncombed  looks.  Their  com* 
pany  was  a  great  annoyance,  fat  it  obliged  me  to  puta  painfiil 
Mstiaint  upon  the  thoi^ifatflilness  in  which  it  was  so  ddig^tfii) 
to  me  to  indulge,  llidr  vidts  were  not  vidts  of  love,  bat  of 
mere  idle  onriodly,  not  unmingled  with  malidoua  hatred. 


tore  oomliirteblj 
uions  were  mudi 
WM  greatljr  ood* 
ifatttre  ever  did, 

hMnt." 

>ther,  ao  long  will 

ts  ft  feeling  very 
riminal  entertaina 
irou{^  the  portals 

bw  dftys  the  cold 
rimaon  flt>m  the 
ented  itMlf  to  tlie 
ind  and  rain,  my 
ntnuioD  of  Unole 
)d  ftbout  ft  ■toneV 
•me  meadow,  and 
own,  althot;^  we 
trftf^jring  glrla  th^ 
i  rude  and  unnur- 
me  in  without  the 
ak  me  ft  thonaand 
naqueated  them  to 
vea  upon  the  dooe- 
\ick  eyea  gleamii^ 
iooka.  TbeSr  oom- 
metoputftpainftd 
t  waa  ao  deligfatfiil 
ata  of  love,  but  ot 
ilidoua  hatred. 


mroLX  JOE  ANii  ms  famili. 


\m 


\ 


Hm  aimplidtj,  the  fbnd,  oonfidfaig  fldth  of  ddldhood,  ia 
nknown  in  Cknada.  Tliere  are  no  children  here.  Tlie  boy 
b  a  miniature  man — knowing,  keen,  and  wide  awake ;  aa  able  to 
drive  a  bargdn  and  take  an  advantage  of  his  juTenile  oompaD> 
fcm  as  the  grown-up,  world-hardened  man.  The  girl,  a  gossip- 
ping  ffirt,  Aill  of  vanity  and  affectation,  with  a  premature 
love  of  iinery,  and  an  acute  perception  of  the  advantages  to 
be  derived  from  wealth,  and  from  keeping  up  a  certain  ap 
pearanoe  in  the  world. 

The  flowers,  the  green  grass,  the  glorious  sunshine,  the 
bfa^s  of  the  air,  and  the  young  lambs  gambolling  down  the 
verdant  dop^  which  fill  the  heart  of  a  British  child  with  a 
fond  eostacy,  bathing  the  young  spirit  in  Elysium,  would  float 
unnoticed  before  the  vision  of  a  Canadian  diild ;  while  the 
slf^t  of  ft  dollar,  or  ft  new  dress,  or  a  gfty  bonnet,  would 
swell  its  proud  boaom  with  aelf-iihportanoe  and  delight  Hie 
vlorioua  blush  of  modest  diflidence,  the  tear  of  gentle  symp** 
Jiy,  are  so  rare  on  the  cheek,  or  in  the  eye  of  the  young,  that 
their  appearance  create*  a  feeling  of  surprise.  Such  perfect 
self-reliance  in  bdngs  so  new  to  the  world  is  painflil  to  a 
thinking  mind.  It  betrays  a  great  want  of  sensibility  and 
mental  culture,  and  a  melancholy  knowledge  of  the  arts  of 
lift. 

For  a  week  I  was  alone,  my  good  Scotch  girl  having  left 
me  to  vidt  her  fiither.  Some  nnall  baby-artides  were  needed 
to  be  wftdied,  and  after  making  a  great  preparation,  I  deter* 
mined  to  try  my  unskilled  hand  upon  the  operatimi.  The  fiust 
ii^  knew  notUng  about  the  tadt  I  had  imposed  up<»  myself^ 
and  in  a  few  minutes  rubbed  the  skin  off  my  wrists,  without 
getting  the  dothea  dean. 

Tlw  door  waa  open,  aa  It  generally  was,  even  during  the 
ooldest  winter  days,  in  order  to  let  in  more  ligh^  and  let  out 
the  smoke,  whidi  otherwise  would  have  enveloped  ua  like  • 

6* 


■i 


loe 


UOUOUlifQ  IT  IN  THE  BOSK 


doud.  1  WM  »  biny  tli»t  I  did  not  perceive  thftt  I  WM 
wiktdwd  by  the  cold,  heavy,  dork  eye*  of  M».  Joe,  who^ 
with  a  neering  Uugh,  exclaimed, 

"  Well,  thank  God !  1  am  glad  to  eee  you  brought  to 
work  at  Urt.  1  hope  you  may  have  to  work  aa  hard  aa  1 
have.  I  don't  ace,  not  I,  why  you,  who  are  no  better  than 
me,  should  sit  still  all  day,  like  a  lady  T 

tt  j4^  H ;'  said  1,  not  a  little  annoyed  at  her  preaeno^ 

«  what  concern  is  it  of  yours  whether  I  work  or  ait  atail  I 
never  interfere  with  you.  if  you  took  it  into  your  head  to 
lie  in  bed  aU  day,  I  should  never  trouble  myaelf  about  it" 

"Ah,  I  gueae  you  don't  look  upon  ua  aa  fellow^srittera,  you 
are  ao  proud  and  grand.  I  a'poae  you  Britishers  are  not  made 
of  flesh  and  blood  Uke  ua.  You  dor't  dwoae  to  sit  down  at 
meat  with  your  helpa.  Now,  I  calculate,  we  think  them  a 
great  deal  better  nor  you." 

"Of  course,"  said  I,  "they  are  more  suited  to  you  than  we 
are;  they  are  uneducated,  and  so  are  you.  This  is  no  fault 
in  either ;  but  it  might  teach  you  to  pay  a  little  more  respect 
to  those  who  are  possessed  of  superior  advantages.  But,  lira. 

H \^  my  help^  aa  you  call  them,  are  dvil  and  obliging, 

Mid  never  make  unprovoked  and  malicious  qpeeohea.    If  they 
oould  ao  4r  forget  themselves,  I  should  order  them  to  leave 

the  house." 

«  Oh,  I  see  what  you  are  up  to,"  repUed  t)>e  insolent  dame  j 
"you  mean  to  say  that  if  I  were  your  help  you  would  turn 
me  out  of  your  house ;  but  Pm  a  frecbom  American,  and  I 
won't  go  at  your  bidding.  Don't  Uiink  I  ooqie  here  out  of 
regard  to  you.  No,  I  hate  you  all;  and  I  rejoice  to  see  you 
•t  the  wash-tub,  and  I  wish  that  you  may  be  brought  down 
apon  your  knees  to  scrub  the  floors." 

TWs  speech  only  caused  a  smile,  and  yet  I  felt  hurt  and 
Mtoniahed  that  a  woman  whom  I  had  never  done  any  thing 


•iv6  that  I  WM 
Mn.  Joe,  yibo, 

you  brought  to 
irk  w  hurd  m  1 
I  no  better  thm 

i  ftt  her  preMDoe, 
I  or  ait  ■din  I 
to  your  head  to 
■elf  about  it" 
illow<orittert,  you 
era  are  not  made 
ise  to  sit  down  at 
re  think  them  a 

id  to  you  than  we 
This  is  no  fault 
ittle  more  reqpeol 
itages.  But,Mn. 
Ivil  and  obliging, 
qpeeohea.  If  they 
ler  them  to  leava 

he  insolent  dame  J 
>  you  would  turn 
American,  and  I 
on|ie  here  out  of 
rejoice  to  see  you 
be  brou{^  down 

et  I  felt  hurt  and 
er  done  any  thing 


uyOLX  JOB  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

to  offend  should  be  so  gratuitously  spiteAil.  In  the  evening 
•he  sent  two  of  her  brood  over  to  borrow  my  "  long  iron,"  as 
she  called  an  Italian  iron.  I  was  just  getting  my  baby  to 
sleep,  sitting  upon  a  low  stool  by  the  fire.  I  pointed  to  the 
'  Iron  upon  the  shelf,  and  told  the  girl  to  take  it.  She  did  so, 
'  but  stood  beside  me,  holding  it  carelessly  in  lier  hand,  and 
ttaring  at  the  baby,  who  had  just  sunk  to  sleep  upon  my 

lap. 

The  next  moment  the  heavy  iron  fell  from  her  relaxed 
grasp,  giving  me  a  severe  blow  upon  my  knee  and  foot :  and 
glanced  so  near  the  child's  head  that  it  drew  from  me  a  cry 
of  terror. 

"  I  guess  that  was  nigh  braining  the  child,"  quoth  Miss 
Amanda,  with  the  greatest  coolness,  and  without  making  the 
least  apology.  Master  Ammon  burst  into  a  loud  laugh.  "  If 
it  had,  Mandy,  I  guess  we'd  have  ootched  it."  Provoked  at 
their  insolence,  I  told  them  to  leave  the  house.  The  tears 
were  in  my  eyes,  for  I  felt  certain  that  had  they  injured  the 
child,  it  would  not  have  caused  them  the  least  regret 

The  next  day,  as  we  were  standing  at  the  door,  my  bus- 
band  was  greatly  amused  by  seeing  fat  Uncle  Joe  chasing  the 
rebellious  Ammon  over  the  meadow  in  front  of  the  house 
Joe  was  out  of  breath,  panting  and  puffing  like  a  small  steam- 
engine,  and  his  &ce  flushed  to  deep  red  with  excitement  and 

passion.    "  You young  scoundrel !"  he  cried,  half  choked 

with  fury,  "  if  I  catch  up  to  you,  Til  take  the  skin  off  you !" 

"You old  scoundrel,  you  may  have  my  skin  if  you 

can  get  at  me,"  retorted  the  precious  child,  as  he  jumped  up 
npon  the  top  of  the  high  fence,  and  doubled  his  fist  in  a  men- 
acing manner  at  his  father. 

"  That  boy  is  growing  too  bad,"  said  Unde  Joe,  coming  up 
to  us  out  of  breath,  the  perspiration  streaming  down  his  face. 
"  It  is  time  to  break  him  in,  or  hell  get  the  master  of  us  all.* 


^ 


'"•  '«!i;.!"'»Ji'  •V''^"^"hih'<-!^,- 


''"VT 


■■^^,„.  — <ij|iy)i^pp 


106 


BoxroBiNo  IT  nr  tbr  ^vsa. 


"lU 


«•  You  abould  have  b«gun  that  before,"  iMd  Moodie. 
una  aliopefiil  pupU." 

•«  Ob,  aa  to  that,  a  UtUe  swearing  ia  manly,"  retunied  the 
fiiUier :  "  I  swear  myself;  I  know,  and  aa  the  old  cock  crows, 
80  crows  the  young  one.  It  ia  not  his  swearing  that  I  care  • 
pin  for,  but  he  wiU  not  do  a  thing  I  teU  him  to." 

«  Swearing  is  adreadfiil  vice,"  said  I,  "and,  wicked  as  it  ia 
in  the  mouth  of  a  grown-up  person,  it  is  perfectly  shocking  in 
^  chad ;  it  painfully  tells  he  has  been  brought  up  without  the 

fear  of  God."  .       ,       v        u.     «.« 

"Pooh!  pooh!  that's  all  cant;  there  ia  no  harm  in  a  few 

oaths,  and  I  cannot  drive  oxen  and  horses  without  swearing. 

1  dare  wy  that  you  can  swear  too  when  you  are  riled,  but  you 

are  too  cunning  to  1 A  us  hear  you." 

I  could  not  help  laugWng  outright  at  this  supposition,  but 

repUed  very  quietly .«  Those  who  practise  such  iniquities  never 

take  any  pains  to  conceal  them.  The  concealment  would  m. 
fer  a  species  of  shame ;  and  when  people  are  consdous  of 
their  guilt,  they  are  in  the  road  to  improvement"  'Yt»  man 
walked  whistling  away,  and  the  wicked  chQd  returned  unpun- 

lahed  to  his  home. 

The  next  minute  the  old  woman  came  fai.  "I  guess  you 
am  give  me  a  piece  of  sHk  for  ahood,"  said  8he,"UieweaUiei 
is  growing  oonffld«»able  cold. 

"Surely  it  cannot  well  be  colder  than  it  la  at  present, 
sud  I,  giving  her  the  rocking-chair  by  the  fire. 

«  Wait  a  wUle ;  you  know  nothing  of  a  Canadian  winter. 
This  is  only  November  J  after  the  CJhristmaa  thaw,  youTl 
know  something  about  cold.  It  is  seve^and-thirty  years 
««,  since  I  and  my  man  lefk  the  U-ni-ted  States.  It  waa 
called  the  year  of  the  great  winter.  I  tell  you,  woman, 
that  ihi  snow  lay  so  deep  on  the  earth  that  it  blocked  up  ^ 
the  roads,  and  we  could  drive  a  sleigh  whither  we  pleased, 


^m* 


mmmi!g0iW'ffti9ii$^ 


•idMoodie.    «IU 

mly,**  returned  the 
lie  old  cock  crowa, 
earing  that  I  cere  • 

DtttO.'* 

and,wid(edasiti« 
erfeotly  shocking  in 
light  up  without  die 

is  no  harm  in  a  few 
•  without  swearing, 
mare  riled,  but  you 

this  snppontion,  but 
such  idquities  never 
ncealment  would  in* 
le  are  oonadous  of 
vemmit**  The  man 
hQd  returned  unprnw 

le  fai.  •*!  guess  you 
udahe,**theweathei 

an  it  is  at  present,** 
9  fire. 

if  a  Ganadian  winter, 
iristmas  thaw,  you'll 
iven^nd-thirty  years 
l.ted  States.  It  was 
I  tell  you,  woman, 
that  it  blocked  up  all 
I  whither  we  pleased, 


imCfLB  JOB  AND  BIS  fAMtLT. 


\Wt 


right  over  Ae  snake  fences.    All  Ae  deared  land  was  one 
wide  white  level  plain;  it  was  a  year  of  scarcity,  a^  ^ 
were  half  starred ;  but  the  severe  cold  was  far  worse  nor  the 
want  of  provisions.    A  long  and  bitter  joumey  we  had  of 
it ;  but  I  was  young  then,  and  pretty  well  used  to  trouble  and 
fhtigue;  my  man  stuck  to  the  British  government    More 
foci  he!    I  was  an  American  bom,  and  my  heart  was  with 
the  true  cause.    But  his  fether  was  Ehglish,  and,  says  he, 
•  ni  live  and  die  under  their  tag.'    So  he  dragged  me  from 
my  comfortable  fireside  to  seek  a  home  in  the  &r  CJmaditti 
wUdemess.     Trouble !   I  guess  you  think  you  have  yow 
troubles;  but  what  are  they  to  miner    She  paused,  took 
a  pinch  of  snufi;  offered  me  the  box,  sighed  painflifly,  puAed 
the  red  handkerchief  fi»m  her  high,  narrow,  wrinkled  brow, 
and  continued:— "Joe  was  a  baby  then,  and  I  had  another 
helpless  critter  in  ©y  lap-an  adopted  cMld.    My  sister  had 
died  from  it,andlwas  nursing  it  at  this  same  breast  with 
my  boy.    Well,  we  had  to  perform  a  journey  of  fouf  hundred 
mOes  in  an  ox-cart,  which  carried,  besides  me  and  the  chil- 
dren,  all  our  household  stufE    Our  way  lay  cWefly  through 
the  forest,  and  we  made  but  slow  progress.    Oh!  what  a 
bitter  cold  night  it  was  when  we  reached  the  swampy  woods 
where  the  city  of  Rochester  now  stands.    Tbe  oxen  were 
covered  with  iddea,  and  their  breath  sent  up  clouds,  of 
steam.    'Nathan,'  says  I  to  my  man,  'you  must  stop  and 
kindle  a  fire;  I  am  dead  with  cold,  and  I  (bar  the  babes 
will  be  frozen.*    We  began  looking  about  fi>r  a  good  qpot 
to  camp  ta,  when  I  spied  a  light  through  the  trees.    It  was 
a  lone  shanty,  occupied  by  two  French  lumberers.    Tlie  men 
were  kind;  they  rubbed  our  ftoaen  limbs  with  mow,  and 
shared  with  us  their  supper  and  buflWo  skins.    On  that  very 
spot  where  we  camped  that  nig^t,  where  we  heard  noAing 
but  the  whid  soughing  amongst  the  trees,  and  the  nuhing 


*■;* 


■yyr 


r*""!?^^ 


110  ROVOHmO  IT  IN  THE  MUStt. 

Of  Um  TlTer,  now  rtands  the  great  dty  of  Rochester.  1 
went  there  two  ye«  ago,  to  (he  fimena  of  •J"*^;^ 
seemed  to  me  like  a  dream.  Where  we  foddered  o«oej«to 
by  the  Bhanty  fire,  now  rtanda  the  laigest  hotel  m  the  city, 
and  my  husband  left  iMs  fine  growing  country  to  starve  here. 

1  was  so  much  interested  in  the  old  woman's  narrative- 
for  she  was  really  possessed  of  no  ordinary  capacity,  and 
though  rude  and  uneducated  mi^t  have  been  a  very  superior 
pa«anundei  different  dreumstanoes-that  I  rummaged  among 
^  rtores,  and  soon  found  a  piece  of  black  silk,  which  I  gave 

her  fi)r  the  hood  she  required. 

The  old  woman  examined  it  c^fiiUy  over,  smiled  to  he^ 
«ilf,but,likeallherpeople,  was  too  proud  to  retamaword 
of  thanks.   ,Qnegiftto  the  fiimily  always  involved  another. 

«  Have  you  any  cotton^batting,  or  black  sewing«lk,  to  give 
me,  to  quiltit  witfil" 

«^No." 
.  «  Humph,"  returned  the  old  dame,  in  a  tone  which  seemed 
to  contradict  my  assertion.  She  then  seated  hersdf  in  her 
chair,  and,  after  shaking  h«^  foot  awhile,  and  fi««Jf  P^^" 
ing  eyes  upon  me  for  some  minutea,  she  commenced  the  fot 
lowing  list  of  interrogatories:— 

« Is  your  fiither  aliver  _^  „ 

-No;  he  died  many  years  ago,  when  I  was  a  young  ghL 

"Is  your  mother  alive!" 

"Yes."  * 

-Whatishernamer    I  satisfied  her  on  this  point 

••  Did  sh»  ever  mvry  again  r  .    v    j  *^ 

-She  might  have  done  so,  but  she  loved  her  husband  \M 

well,  M»d  preferred  living  dngle."  wv.* -« 

"Humi*!    We  have  po  such  notions  here.    WhatWM 

yoorfttherr  ^  .  » 

*»A  gentleman,  who  lived  upon  his  own  estate. 


Sff 

of  Boohester.  1 
1  of  »  brother.  It 
bddcired  our  beast* 
botel  in  the  city*, 
try  to  starve  here." 
Oman's  narrative — 
fiary  capadty,  and 
Ben  a  very  superior 
I  rummaged  among 
k  silk,  which  I  gave 

over,  smiled  to  her* 
id  to  return  a  word 
I  involved  another. 
I  sewing-mlk,  to  give 


B  tone  whidi  seemed 

Bated  herself  in  her 

and  finng  her  piero- 

commenced  the  f(d> 


I  was  a  young  j^" 

r  on  tUs  point 
vei  her  husbaad  too 
)ns  hfere.    What  WM 
wnes^to." 


,  VJrOLS  iOE  AND  JOS  FAMILT. 

"IHdhedierichr 

"He  lost  the  greatest  part  of  his  property  from  being 
surety  for  another.** 

«  That*8  a  foolish  buanness.  My  man  burnt  his  fingers  with 
that.  And  what  brought  you  out  to  this  poor  country-— you, 
who  are  no  more  fit  (br  It  (jhaa  I  am  toibe  a  fine  lady  1" 

*•  The  promise  of  a  large  grant  of  land,  and  the  ftlse  state, 
ments  we  heard  regarding  it." 

«♦  Do  you  like  the  country  1** 

"  No ;  and  I  feto  I  never  riudl.** 

"  I  thought  not ;  for  the  drop  is  always  m  your  cheek,  the 
children  teU  me;  and  those  yoimg  ones  hav«  keen  eyes. 
Now,  take  my  advice:  return  wMU  your  money  lasts;  the 
longer  you  remain  in  Canada  the  less  you  will  like  it;  and 

wh^a  your  «oiieri»  •»«!»«>»  yo«*>tt  *«  W»  •^'^  ""  ■ 
oi^e.;  you  may  beat  ypnr  wmgs  Against  the  bats,  but  you 
can^t  get  out."  There  was  a  Iqng  pause.  I  hoped  that  my 
guest  had  sirfiMnently  gratified  Jh«  curiosity,  when  she  agun 

commeBoed>— 

«  How  do  you  get  your  mmey  1  Do  you  draw  it  ttqm 
die  old  country,  or  have  you  it  with  yw  in  eashr 

Provoked  by  her  pwtwaoity,  «nd  s*ri»ig  no  ^  to  her 

oros»4iuestiomng,  I  replied,  very  impatiently,  "M".  H 1 

is  H  the  <KM)(om  in  yoar  eouiary  *o  icsteehis*  sfrangprswhen- 
ev«(r  you  meet  with  them  1** 

"  What  do  you  meanr  «wd  she,  eolouring,  I  believe,  for 
the  first  time  in  hn*  life. 

«I  mean,**  quo*  I,  ««»  evfl  habit  of  asking  impertinent 

questions.*' 

The  old  woman  got  up,  and  left  ttie  house  ^rftbowt  qpeaking 

another  word. 


J^1sS--*'>'" 


[lilljll  .1,  II  1.1 1 


"TStP**""?^ 


\ 


m< m.; nn'i ,  j i,i| ii^ji i,. .iiji jj ;i;'\^ ;, ■.' ■» ^'y 


1 


112 


MOUOHmO  IT  W  THX  BUSU. 


OHAPTBB  VIIl 


JOHW    MOWAaHAir. 


i  ,.." 


•Bmt  «o(hw  HitaNl  M  Mr  i 

A  rt«  ■••Mil*  »»*»»«»"■  •** 
AhiMaadMwMltaM.   H«  Im«  aMght  birt  tkM, 

Aod  ll»  tlroi*  !»■*•■*  tttwit*  ******  •■'•^ 

A  FEW  d»y«  •««?  Hie  dd  iromiii**  TWt  to  llie  cottage,  ouf 
servant  James  aliaented  hhnaelf  for  •  week,  without  ask. 
ing  lea>«,  or  ^ving  any  fatimatl<m  of  Ms  intention.  He  had 
under  his  oare  a  fine  pair  of  horsea,  a  yoke  of  oxen,  three 
cows,  and  a  numerous  fittnUy  of  pig%  beddes  having  to  chop 

•U  the  fiiewood  requited  ibr  our  use.  His  uneipeeted  de- 
pwture  a  used  no  smaU  trouble  in  the  fcmUy ;  and  when  the 
truant  at  last  made  his  •ppearanoe,  Moodio  discharged  him 

altogether. 

The  wfater  had  now  ftiriy  set  fat-the  iron  whiter  of  1888. 
The  snow  was  unusually  deep,  and  H  being  our  first  winter  in 
Cbnada,  and  passed  fai  such  a  miserable  dwellfaig,  we  felt  it  very 
severely.  In  spite  of  all  my  boasted  fortitude-and  I  thfaik 
my  powers  of  eoduMnoe  have  been  tried  to  the  uttermost  since 
my  sojourn  fat  this  country— the  rigour  of  the  cUmate  subdued 
my  proud,  faidepeodent  English  spirit,  and  I  actually  shamed 
my  womanhood  and  cried  with  the  cold.  Yes,  I  ought  to 
bluah  at  evfaidng  such  unpardonable  weakness;  but  I  wa» 
fboUA  and  faieqierianoed,  and  unaccustomed  to  the  yoke. 


TwyT'Ttf-  T^'i'  "JT*  i^W'l^y^ 


i^'ia>flv-<niV!,:!'-3!~'i  " 


JOES  MONAQSAV. 


118 


UStL 


dt  to  the  cottage,  oaf 
•  week,  widwat  eek. 
B  intention.  He  had 
yoke  <^  oxen,  liiree 
Midea  haying  to  chop 
Hia  uneqieeted  de> 
hmily ;  and  when  the 
oodie  diacharged  him 

» iron  winter  uf  1888. 
ing  our  firat  winter  in 
ireUfaig,welUtitTery 
irtitode— and  I  tUnk 
to  the  uttermoat  unca 
)f  the  dimate  aubdoed 
nd  I  actually  afaamed 
»ld.  Yea,  I  ought  to 
weakneaa;  but  I  wat 
>med  to  the  ydce. 


My  husband  did  not  mudi  relidi  performing  the  menial 
duties  of  a  servant  hi  such  weather,  but  he  did  not  com- 
pkin,  and  in  the  mean  time  commenced  an  active  inquiry  for 
a  man  to  supply  the  place  of  the  one  he  had  lost ;  but  at  that 
season  of  the  year  no  <«ie  was  to  be  had. 

It  was  a  bitter,  freering  night  A  sharp  wind  howled  with- 
out,  and  drove  the  fine  snow  through  the  chinks  in  the  door, 
almoot  to  the  hearth^tcme,  on  wWch  two  immense  blocks  of 
maple  shed  forth  a  cheering  glow,  brightening  the  narrow 
window-pane^  and  making  the  blackened  rafters  ruddy  with 
the  heait-invigoiBting  bkae.  The  toils  of  the  day  were  over, 
the  supjoer-things  cleared  away,  and  the  door  closed  for  the 
night  Moodie  bad  takm  up  his  flute,  the  sweet  companion 
of  hapi^er  daya,  at  the  earnest  request  of  our  hom»«ck  Scotch 
8ervantfi;irl,  to  <Aeer  her  drooping  spirits  by  playing  some  of 
the  touching  national  airs  of  the  glorious  mountun  land,  the 
land  of  cWvalry  and  song,  the  heroic  North.  Brfore  retiring 
to  rest,  Bell,  who  had  an  exquisite  ear  for  munc,  kept  time 
witii  foot  and  hand,  wlule  large  tears  gathered  m  her  soft  blue 

eyea. 

«♦  Ay,  'tis  bonnie  thae  songs ;  but  they  mak'  me  greet,  an 
my  puir  heart  is  sair,  sair  when  I  tUnk  on  the  bonnie  braea 
and  tfie  days  o'  lang  syne.'» 

PoorBdl!    Her  heart  waa  among  tiie  Mils,  and  mine  had 

wandered  fcr,  ftr  away  to  the  green  groves  and  meadows  of 
my  own  fikir  land.  The  muric  and  our  reveries  were  alike 
abruptiy  banished  by  a  sharp  blow  upon  the  door.  Bell  rose 
and  opened  it,  when  a  strange,  wild4ooking  lad,  barefooted, 
and  with  no  otfier  covering  to  his  head  than  the  thidt,  matted 
locks  of  raven  blackness,  tiiat  hung  like  a  doud  over  Ua 
swarthy,  sunburnt  visage,  burst  into  the  room. 

«  Ouidneas  defend  us  I    Wha  ha*e  wo  heret"  aoreamed 
Bell  retreating  into  a  comer.  ••Thepuir  callanfenocannie.' 


A 


V  '« 


4 


yi 


BouoBtm  IT  or  tfx  bush. 

My  husband  tumftd  hutily  round  to  meet  the  intruder, 
and  I  raised  the  candle  from  the  table  the  better  to  distinguish 
h»  6oe ;  while  BeM,  item  her  hidiag-pliKje,  regarded  him  with 
unnquiTocal  glancea  of  fear  and  mistnnt,  waving  her  hands  to 
me,  and  pointing  wgnifioantly  to  open  the  door,  as  if  rilently 
beseeching  me  to  tell  her  master  to  turn  him  out 

«♦  ^ut  the  door,  man  "  said  Moodle,  whose  long  scrutiny  of 
the  strange  being  befoie  us  seemed  upon  the  whole  satisfa* 
tory ;  **  we  shall  be  froeen." 

•«  Thin,  foith,  sir,  that's  what  I  am,"  said  the  lad  in  a  rich 
brogue,  which  told,  without  asJiing,  the  country  to  which  he 
belonged.  Then  stretching  his  bare  hands  to  the  fire,  he  con- 
tinued,  "  By  Jove,  sir,  I  was  never  so  near  gone  in  my  life !" 

"  Where  do  you  come  from,  and  what  is  your  buoness 
beret  You  must  be  aware  that  this  is  a  very  late  hour  to 
take  a  house  by  storm  in  this  way." 

"  Thrue  ft-  /ou,  dr.  But  necessity  knows  no  law ;  and  the 
condition  you  see  me  in  must  plade  for  me.    First,  tWn,  rir,  I 

come  ^m  the  township  <ii  D ^  and  want  a  masther ;  and 

next  to  that,  bedad !  I  want  something  to  ate.  As  I'm  alive, 
and  'tis  a  thousand  pities  tbat  I'm  alire  at  all  at  aU,  for  sure 
God  Almi^y  never  made  sidi  a  misfortunato  orather  afore 
not  ance;  I  have  had  notlung  to  put  fai  my  head  since  I  ran 

•way  from  my  ould  mastlier,  Mr.  F ,  yesterday  at  noon. 

Money  I  have  none,  sir ;  the  divU  a  cent  I  have  neither  a  shoe 
to  my  foot  norn  hat  to  my  head,  and  If  you  reAise  to  shelter 
me  the  ni^  I  must  be  oontint  to  perish  fa  the  snow,  for  I 
have  not  a  frind  fa  the  wide  wurid." 

The  lad  covered  fak  &oe  with  Ids  hands,  and  sobbed 

atoud. 

"Bell,"  I  wMspered;  "go  to  the  cupboard  and  get  the 
pnor  fellow  sometlnng  to  eat.    The  boy  is  starvfag." 

"Dfana  heed  him,  mistress,  dinnn  credit  his  leea.    He  k 


^■1^.  f»w  M  ^  ■fVK^^SS?Vi*ilit'i 


meet  the  intruder, 
better  to  distinguish 
^  regarded  him  with 
waving  her  hands  to 
)  door,  a«  if  rilently 
liimout. 

lOM  long  aorutiny  of 
B  the  whole  satisfaoi 

M  ihe  lad  in  a  rich 
Dountry  to  whidi  he 
la  to  the  fire,  he  con* 
r  gone  in  my  life  T 
liat  is  your  budness 
a  very  late  hour  to 

K>W8  no  law ;  and  the 
ae.  first,  thin,  sir,  I 
irant  a  maather ;  and 

0  ate.  As  I'm  alive, 
ftt  all  at  an,  for  sure 
rtunate  raalher  afore 
i  my  head  since  I  ran 
-,  yesterday  at  noon. 

I  have  neither  a  shoe 
you  reAise  to  dielter 
di  fai  the  snow,  for  1 

1  hands,  and  sobbed 

upboard  and  get  the 
is  starving." 
redit  hia  leea.    Heia 


JOay  MONAOHAX. 


Ill 


ane  o'  Uwse  wicked  Papista  wha  ha'  just  stepped  II  to  rob  and 
murder  us." 

"Nonsense!    Do  aa  I  bid  you." 

''  1  winna  be  fashed  aboot  him.    An'  if  he  bides  hert  TO 
(i'en  flit  by  the  first  blink  o'  the  mom.* 

♦♦  Isabel,  for  shame !    h  this  a^Aing  like  a  CSiristian,  or 
doing  aa  you  would  be  done  by  V 

Bell  was  as  obstinate  as  a  rock,  not  only  refiising  to  put 
down  any  food  for  the  fiunished  lad,  but  reiterating  her  threal 
of  leaving  the  house  if  he  were  suffered  to  remain.  My  hua- 
band,  no  longer  aWe  to  endure  her  selfidi  and  absurd  conduct, 
got  angry  in  good  earnest,  and  told  her  that  she  might  please 
herself;  that  b«  dW  not  mean  to  ask  her  leave  as  to  whom  he 
received  into  bis  houae.  I,  for  my  part,  had  no  idea  that  she 
would  refdixe  bw  threat.  She  waa  an  excellent  servant,  dean, 
honest,  and  indu^ous,  and  loved  the  &ar  baby. 

•♦  You  will  tWnk  better  of  it  in  the  momkig,"  swd  I,  as  I 

rose  and  ^aoed  before  the  lad  some  cold  beef  and  bread,  and 

a  bowl  of  milk,  to  wWch  the  runaway  did  ample  justice. 

"  Why  did  you  quit  your  master,  my  lad  f  said  Moodie. 

**  Because  I  could  live  wid  him  no  longer.    Yuu  see,  sir, 

Pm  a  poor  foundling  i5rom  the  Belfiut  Asylum,  shoved  out  by 

the  mother  that  bore  me,  upon  the  wide  world,  long  before  1 

knew  that- 1  was  in  it    As  1  was  too  young  to  spake  for 

myself  mtirely,  she  put  me  into  a  basket,  wid  a  label  round 

my  neck,  to  tell  the  folks  that  my  name  waa  John  Monaghan. 

Tlus  was  all  I  ever  got  fix>m  my  parents ;  and  who  or  what 

they  were,  I  never  knew,  npt  I,  for  they  never  dwmed  me : 

bad  cess  to  them  1    But  Fve  no  doubt  it's  a  fine  iUigant  gin. 

tleman  he  was,  and  herself  a  handsome,  ridi  young  lady,  who 

dfsa  not  <^wn  ma  for  fear  of  af&onting  the  rich  jaitry,  her  father 

and  i^other.     Poor  folk,  rir,  ave,  never  ashwned  of  their  chil- 

^wn;  'tia  «)I  ^  tra^wura  tihey  h«ve^  sr;  but  my  parents 


.", 


rmmwmgwfi^ 


116 


ROUOmm  IT  IN  TOB  BOSH. 


woe  ashamed  of  me,  and  Uwy  thrurt  me  out  to  the  strangef 
and  the  hard  bread  of  depindence."  Tlie  poor  lad  sighed 
deeply,  and  I  began  to  feel  a  growing  tatereat  fa  his  sad 

history. 

•*  Have  you  been  in  Uie  country  longf* 

"Four  years,  madam.     You  know  my  masther,  Mr. 

F .  he  brought  me  out  wid  him  as  his  apprentice,  and 

during  the  voyage  he  trated  me  well  But  the  young  men, 
his  sons,  are  tyrants,  and  fliU  of  durty  pride;  and  I  could  not 
agree  wid  them  at  all  at  alL  Yesterday,  I  forgot  to  talce  the 
oxen  out  of  the  yoke,  and  Musther  WUHam  tied  me  up  to  a 
stump,  and  bate  me  with  the  raw  Wde.  Shure  the  marks  are 
on  my  Aowlthers  yet  I  left  the  oxMi  and  the  yoke,  «id 
turned  my  back  upon  them  all,  for  the  hot  blood  was  bUm* 
widfa  me;  and  I  felt  that  if  I  stayed  tt  would  be  him  that 
would  get  the  worst  of  it  No  one  had  erer  oared  for  me 
sfaioe  I  wa«  bom,  so  I  thought  it  was  h^gh  time  to  take  care 
of  myself:  I  had  heai^  your  name,  sir,  and  I  thought  I  would 
find  you  out;  and  if  you  want  a  lad,  I  wiU  wwrk  for  you  for 
my  kape,  and  a  few  daoent  dothes.** 

A  bargain  was  soon  made.  Moodie  agreed  to  give  Mon. 
oghan  six  dollars  a  month,  which  he  thankfiilly  accepted ;  and 
1  told  BcU  to  prepare  his  bed  fa  a  comer  of  the  kitehen.  But 
mistress  Bell  thought  fit  to  rebel.  Having  been  guilty  of  one 
act  of  insubordination,  she  determined  to  be  consistent,  and 
throw  oir  Ae  yoke  altogether.  She  declared  that  she  would 
do  no  sudi  thing;  that  her  life  and  all  our  lives  were  fa 
danger;  and  that  she  would  never  stay  another  night  undK 
tlw  same  roof  with  that  Papist  vagabond. 

<*  Papist  r  cried  the  fadignant  lad,  his  dark  eyes  fladdng 
fire,  '*nn  no  P^ist,  but «  Protestant  like  yourself;  and  1 
hope  a  deuced  dale  better  CSuristian.  You  take  me  for  a 
thief;  yet  shure  a  thief  would  have  waited  tiB  you  were  ai] 


w<..,u.   n^ii.,—gBWlBP'!l 


out  to  the  Btrangsf 
«  poor  lad  sighed 
ntereat  ia  Ua  sad 


my  maather,  Mr. 
hia  apprentice,  and 
It  the  young  men, 
ie ;  and  I  could  not 
I  forgot  to  take  the 
m  tied  me  up  to  a 
Ihure  the  marka  are 
and  the  yoke,  wnd 
lot  blood  waa  billn* 
would  be  him  that 
erer  cared  for  ma 
^  time  to  take  care 
d  I  thought  I  would 
ill  wcHrk  for  you  for 

igreed  to  give  Mon* 
LAilly  accepted ;  and 
of  the  kitchen.  But 
K  been  guilty  of  one 

0  be  consistent,  and 
lared  that  she  would 

1  our  lives  were  'm 
another  night  undar 

ia  dark  eyes  fladdng 
like  yourself;  and  ] 
You  take  me  for  a 
ted  till  you  were  aSl 


-« 


jomr  MONAOBAX 


in 


hbedanda8leep,«nd  not  stepped  in  forenhit  you  aU  in  this 

fiMUon.** 

There  was  both  truth  and  natunj  in  the  lad's  argument; 
but  BeU,  like  an  obstinate  woman  as  she  was,  chose  to  adhere 
to  her  own  opinion.    Nay,  she  even  carried  her  absurd  prej* 
Jices  so  &r  that  she  brought  her  mattress  and  laid  it  down  on 
Ae  floor  in  my  iwm,  for  fear  that  tiielriA  vagabond  should 
murder  her  during  the  night.    By  the  break  of  day  she  was 
off-  leaving  me  for  the  rest  of  the  whiter  without  a  servant 
Mcinaahan  did  all  in  Ms  power  to  supply  her  place ;  he  lighted 
the  fires,  swept  the  house,  mflked  the  cows,  nursed  the  baby, 
and  often  cooked  the  dimier  for  me,  and  endeavoured  by  a 
thousand  little  attentions  to  show  the  gratitude  he  really  felt 
for  our  kindness.     To  little  Katie  he  attached  himself  in  an 
extraordinary  manner.    All  his  spare  time  he  spent  m  making 
little  sleighs  and  toys  for  her,  or  in  dragging  her  in  the  said 
sleishs  up  and  down  the  steep  hiHs  in  front  of  the  house 
wrapped  up  in  a  blanket.    Of  anight,  he  cooked  her  mess  of 
breadand  milk,  as  she  sat  by  the  fn»,and  his  greatest  dehjjt 
was  to  feed  her  himself.    After  this  operation  was  over,  he 
would  carry  her  round  the  floor  on  his  back,  and  sing  her 
Bonirs  in  native  Iiish.    Katie  always  greetfed  his  return  from 
the  woods  with  a  scream  of  joy,  holding  up  her  fiur  arms  to 

clasp  the  neck  of  her  dark  fevourite. 

«  Now  the  Lord  love  you  for  a  darlint!"  h^  would  cry,  as 
he  caught  her  to  his  heart  -Shure  you  are  the  only  one  of 
the  crathers  he  ever  made  who  can  love  poor  John  Monaghto. 
Brothers  and  sisters  I  have  none-I  stand  alone  in  the  wurld, 
and  your  bonny  wee  face  is  the  sweetest  thtag  it  contama  for 

me.    Och,  jewil !  I  could  lay  down  my  life  for  you,  ted  be 

nroud  to  do  that  same.**  ' 

Though  careless  and  recUesa  about  every  tWng  that  con. 

owned  himself;  Johh  was  hoB*at  and  true.    He  loved  iia  for 


i 


-5 


i 

r.i 


guiiiiiv  jip  ■j."njigxn/|Hyt''' ■■'.'' ^fc.^'.  ty" 


«!■! 


118 


Bouoaofo  iT  vr 


Muan. 


.■itfe, 


the  oompMdM  we  had  dhown  him;  and  he  would  haw 
resented  any  Injury  oflfered  to  our  poaona  with  Ua  baat 
blood. 

But  if  we  were  pleaaed  with  our  new  aarvant,  Unde  Joe 
and  Ms  fiunily  were  not,  and  they  ooounenoed  a  leriee  of 
petty  perseeutlona  that  annoyed  Um  greatly,  and  kindled  into 
a  flame  aU  the  fiery  partidea  oTUa  irritable  nature. 

Moodie  had  purohaaed  aeveral  tona  of  hay  of  a  ndf^boor- 
ing  &rmer,  for  theuae  of  hb  cattle,  and  it  had  to  be  stowed 
into  the  same  bam  «ith  some  flax  and  straw  that  belonged  to 
Unde  Joe.  Gdng  early  one  morning  to  fodder  the  oatde, 
Jolm  found  Unde  Joe  feeding  his  oowa  with  Us  master'a  hay, 
end  aa  it  had  diminished  greatly  in  a  very  short  time,  he  ao 
cuaed  him  in  no  measured  terms  <rf'  being  the  tUeC  The 
other  Tery  oooUy  replied  that  he  had  taken  a  little  of  the  hay 
in  order  to  repay  himsdf  for  his  flax,  that  Mona^ian  had 
stolen  for  the  oxen.  "Now  by  the  poweraP  quoth  John, 
kindling  into  wrath,  "  that  ia  addtag  a  big  lie  to  a  dirthy  petty 
laroeny.  I  take  your  flax,  you  odd  villain!  Shwre  I  know 
that  flax  is  grown  to  make  Hnen  wid,  not  to  feed  oicn.  God 
Almi^ly  has  given  the  orathera  a  good  warm  ooat  nS  their 

j;  they  require  ndther  diifta  nor  ddrta." 

**!  saw  you  take  it,  you  ragged  Irisa  vagabond,  with  my 
owneyea." 

**Thin  your  two  eyea  shDwed  you  a  widied  fllusi<«.  You 
had  better  shut  up  your  head,  or  Fll  give  you  that  for  an 
eyeealve  lj»«»  aball  make  you  see  thrue  for  the  time  to 

come." 

Rdying  upon  Ua  great  die,  and  thinking  that  the  slight 
fitripling,  who,  by  the  by,  waa  all  bones  and  sinews,  was  no 
iDBtch  for  him,  Uncle  Joe  struck  Mcmagban  over  the  head  with 
the  pitchfork.  In  a  moment  the  aetive  Ud  waa  upon  Um  like 
a  wild-cat,  and  iti  sfrfto  of  the  di&renoe  of  hia  age  and  »«ifl^ 


Ax^ 


■it"^j^^¥^%''t^^,*^.S5»ey««:^ 


^.,^fee^.. 


ha  wouU  ham 
•  with  Ua  b«t 

mat,  Und«  Joa 
•  Mrieaof 
kindled  iuto 
natora. 

jr  of  a  nelghboor- 

lad  to  be  atowad 

tlMt  belonged  to 

odder  the  oattla, 

kia  maatar'a  hqr, 

ihort  tirae^heao 

t  the  thieC    Hie 

aUttlaofthehaj 

It  Monaf^iaB  had 

irar*  quoth  John, 

I  to  a  dirthy  petty 

i!    Shvrelknow 

>feed  onn.    God 

irm  ooat  of  their 

igabond.  with  my 

;ad  illuaiMi.    You 

I  you  that  for  an 

for  the  dme  to 

ng  that  the  slight 
td  afaiews,  waa  no 
•ver  <iMheadwiA 
raa  upon  him  Ilka 
ia  age  and  araii^. 


jomr  tiONABBAN. 


lit 


gave  the  big  man  each  a  thoroi^  drMMing  that  ha  ww  Ikfai 
to  roar  aloud  for  meroy. 

«•  Own  that  you  are  a  thief  and  a  liar,  or  PU  murther  ycu  T 

**ru  own  to  any  tUag  wUht  your  knee  ia  prearing  me 
bto  a  pancake.  Come  now— thM«'a  a  good  lad— let  ma  get 
•p."  Monagfaan  felt  irreaolute,  but  after  extortbg  from  UnoU 
Joe  a  promiae  never  to  puriob  any  of  the  hay  agafai,  ha  lal 
Umriae. 

••For  ahur^''  he  aaid,  <*lie  began  to  turn  ao  blank  fat  tfia 
ftoe,  I  thought  he'd  borat  faitfarely.** 

The  fiit  man  ndtfaer  forgot  nor  fotgave  tUa  faijary;  and 
though  he  dared  not  attack  John  peraonally,  he  aak  the  chil- 
dren to  inault  and  aflVont  him  upon  all  occaaiona.  Ilia  boy 
waa  without  aodci,  and  I  aent  hfan  to  old  Mn.  H ,  to  in- 
quire of  her  what  dm  would  chaige  for  knitting  him  two  pain 
of  soeka.  The  reply  waa,  a  dollar.  Thia  waa  agreed  to,  and 
dear  enough  they  weire;  but  the  weather  waa  very  cold,  and 
the  bd  waa  barefooted,  and  there  waa  no  other  altemattra 
than  either  to  accept  her  ofier,  or  for  Urn  to  go  without. 

h  a  Ibw  daya,  Monaghaa  brought  them  home ;  but  I  found 
upon  inspecting  them  that  they  were  old  aooka  new-footed. 
TMs  waa  rather  too  gbring  a  cheat,  and  I  aent  the  lad  back 

with -them,  and  told  him  to  faiform  Mra.  H that  aa  he  had 

agreed  to  give  the  price  for  new  aodcs,  he  expected  tham  to 
b(6  new  altogether. 

The  avarieioua  old  woman  did  not  deny  the  foot,  but  she 
fell  to  oureing  and  awearing  in  an  awfiil  manner,  and  wished 
ao  mudi  evil  to  the  lad,  that,  with  the  supwstitious  fear  so 
oommon  to  the  natiyea  of  his  country,  he  left  her  under  the 
impraadkm  that  she  was  gifted  with  the  evil  eye,  and  waa  an 
*  owld  wittL"  He  never  went  out  of  the  yard  with  the  wag- 
OD  and  horses,  but  she  rushed  to  the  door,  and  cursed  Mm 
fiw  a  bareJieeled  Irish  blackguard,  and  wished  that  he  might 


:i 


I 


IM 


MouQBnn  IT  m  nv  muss. 


offwtura  Hm  w^od,  km  tit*  ^at»s  and  hmk  U»  ova 

''Ms'ann,"  said  John  to  me  om  day,  afUr  ntaniBg  from 
}CU.—  with  the  taana,  **  it  would  b«  iMttber  for  ma  to  lartt 
dM  maathar  intiraly ;  for  ahora  if  I  do  not,  aoma  mia^of 
wiU  bafoll  na  or  tba  orathenk  lliat  wicked  owld  wrotdi !  1 
oannotthola  her  euraaa.  Shuie  it'a  in  purgatory  I  am  all  tha 
whOe." 

**NoaMn8a,  MomigbaBt  yon  are  not  a  Catholie,  and  need 
not  foar  purgatory.  The  next  time  the  old  wonum  eom> 
menoea  kar  reprobate  oondnot,  tell  her  to  hold  ker  tongue,  and 
mfaid  ker  own  budnaaa,  Iw  wraes,  like  ckiokena,  oome  koro* 
torooet, 

Tlw  boy  lanflM  keartOy  at  Um  old  TVirkiah  proverb,  but 
did  not  reokon  much  on  ite  eflSoaoy  to  atill  tke  damoroua 
tongue  of  the  ill-natured  old  jade.  Tha  next  day  ke  had  to 
psM  her  door  with  tke  koteea.  No  sooner  did  aha  kear  tke 
aound  of  tke  wheelt,  than  out  ahe  hobbled,  and  oonunenoed 
ker  usual  anathemas. 

**Bad  kwk  to  yer  croaking,  yer  ill-oonditioned  owld  raven. 
It  ia  not  me  yon  are  deatkroying  aure,  but  yer  own  poor  miM> 
rsble  ainftd  sowl.  The  owld  one  kaa  tke  grief  of  ye  already^ 
tat  'curses,  like  ckickens,  oome  home  to  roost  -i  so  get  in  wid 
ye,  and  hatch  them  to  yerself  in  the  chimley  comer.  Theyll 
all  be  roosting  wid  ye  by  and  by ;  and  a  nice  warm  nest 
tkny'U  make  for  you,  considering  the  brave  brood  tbat  belongi 

to  you." 

Whether  the  old  woman  was  as  saperstitious  as  Jobn,  I 
know  not;  or  whether  she  was  impressed  witk  tke  moral 
tnitk  of  the  proverb— for,  aa  I  have  before  stated,  she  waa  no 
fool>-)8  difficult  to  tell ;  but  she  shrunk  bade  into  her  den, 
and  never  attacked  the  lad  again. 

Poor  John  bore  no  malice  in  hia  heart,  not  he ;  for,  ift 


% 


■l;: 


m 


1 


/(OJOr  MONAOHAir. 


191 


r  ntaraiag  firon 
Ibr  m«  to  !•▼« 

liKMIM  miMhUif 

I  owld  wrateh  I  I 
lory  lun  all  th* 

kthoUe,  and  Mcd 
pld  woman  Mm* 
d  Ur  toogu*,  and 
keiia,ooiiM  bom* 

uih  proTerb,  bul 

II  the  olamoroiw 
xt  day  ke  had  to 

diddle  hear  the 
,  and  oommenoed . 

ioned  owld  raven. 
Brown  poor  mia^ 
lef  of  ye  already^ 
It ;'  80  get  in  wid 
r  eomer.  Ilieyll 
\  niee  warm  neat 
rood  that  beloBgi 

stitious  aa  John,  I 

with  the  moral 

tated,  6he  waa  no 

lek  into  her  den, 

t,  not  he ;  fbr,  Id 


■pito  ofall  the  Ul-natured  thtaiga  he  had  to  endure  from  Uncle 
Joe  and  hia  fiimily,  he  never  attempted  to  return  evil  for  evil. 
In  proof  of  this,  he  waa  one  day  chopping  firewood  in  the  bush, 
at  aome  distance  fVom  Joe,  who  was  engaged  bi  the  shme  em- 
ployment with  another  man.  A  tree  in  fidling  caoght  upon 
another,  wliioh,  although  a  very  laqje  maple,  waM  hollow  and 
very  much  decayed,  and  liable  to  be  blown  down  by  the  least 
shock  of  the  wind.  The  tree  hung  directly  over  the  path  that 
I'ncle  Joe  waa  obliged  to  traverse  daily  with  his  team.  He 
looked  up,  and  perceived,  firom  the  situation  it  occupied,  that 
it  waa  necessary  for  his  own  safety  to  cut  it  down ;  but  he 
lacked  courage  to  undertake  so  haaardoua  a  job,  which  might 
be  attended,  if  the  supporting  tree  gave  way  during  the  oper»- 
tion,  with  very  aerioua  oonsequenoes.  h  a  oareleaa  tone,  he 
called  to  his  companion  to  out  down  the  tree. 

**  Do  it  youreelf,  H ^  said  the  axe  man,  with  a  grin. 

**  My  wife  and  diildren  want  their  man  aa  much  aa  your 
Hannah  wants  you." 

**  m  not  put  axe  to  it,"  quoth  Joe.  Thai,  makbig  signa 
to  hia  comrade  to  hold  his  tongue,  he  shouted  to  Monaghan, 
**  Hollo,  boy !  you're  wanted  here  to  cut  down  this  tree. 
Don't  you  see  that  your  master's  cattle  might  be  killed  if 
they  should  happen  to  pass  under  it,  and  it  should  fidl  upon 
them." 

**  Thrue  fi>r  you,  Masther  Joe ;  but  your  own  cattle  would 
have  the  first  chance.  Why  ahould  I  risk  my  life  and  limbs, 
by  cutting  down  the  tiee,  when  it  waa  yerself  that  threw  it  so 
awkwardly  over  the  other  1" 

**  Oh,  but  you  are  a  boy,  and  have  no  wife  and  children  to 
depend  apon  you  fbr  bread,"  said  Joe,  gravely.  "  We  are 
both  ftmily  men.  Don't  you  aee  that  tis  your  duty  to  cut 
down  the  tree  t" 

The  lad  awung  the  ave  to  and  fro  bi  hia  hand,  ayebtg  Jot 


; 


J 


^ 


saJ-^jr^'ii^i'V  ^'^^.-M^*^'*?' H^^j^r*' ' ' 


■WW?^ 


123 


ROUQEJire  IT  w  Tx*  bush: 


?■ 


■ltd  the  tree  alternately ;  but  the  natural  kind-heartedneas  of 
the  creature,  and  his  reckless  courage,  overoame  all  idea  of 
8elf.preservation,  and  raising  aloft  his  slender  but  muscular 
arm,  he  cried  out,  "  If  it's  a  life  that  must  be  sacrificed,  why 
not  mine  as  well  as  another  1  Here  goes!  and  the  Lord 
have  mercy  on  my  sinfiil  sowl !" 

The  tree  fell,  and,  contrary  to  their  expectations,  without 
any  injury  to  John.  The  knowing  Yankee  burst  into  a  loud 
laugh.  "  Well,  if  you  am^t  a  tarnation  soft  fool,  I  never  saw 
one." 

''What  do  you  mane]"  exclaimed  John,  his  dark  eyer 
flashing  fire.  "  If  'tis  to  insult  me  for  doing  that  which  neithei 
of  yov  dared  to  do,  you  bad  better  not  thry  that  same.  You 
have  just  seen  the  strength  of  my  spirit  You  had  better  not 
thry  again  the  strength  of  my  arm,  or,  majtbe,  you  and  the 
tree  would  chance  to  share  the  same  fitte ;"  and,  diouldering 
his  axe,  the  boy  strode  down  the  hill,  to  get  scolded  by  me 
for  his  foolhardiness. 

The  first  week  in  March,  all  Uie  people  were  busy  making 
maple  sugar.  ^  IHd  you  ever  taste  any  maple  sugar,  ma'arm  V 
asked  Monag^ian,  as  he  sat  feeding  Katie  <Hie  evening  by  the 
fire. 

"No,  John." 

"  Well,  then,  you've  a  thrate  to  come ;  and  it's  myself  that 
will  make  Miss  Katie,  the  darlint,  an  illigant  lump  of  that 
same." 

Early  in  the  morning  John  w«8  up,  hard  at  work,  making 
troughs  for  the  sap.  By  noon  he  had  ccanpleted  a  dosen, 
which  he  showed  me  with  great  pride  of  heart  I  felt  a  little 
curious  about  this  fiir-fiuned  maple  sugar,  and  asked  a  thou- 
sand questions  about  the  use  to  which  the  troughs  were  to 
be  appli^ ;  how  the  trees  were  to  be  tapped,  the  si]^;ar  au^e, 
and  if  it  wnre  really  good  if  l|ai  m^dot 


./ 


■w^ 


' /%>s!>«mmsM0fM 


m. 

ind-heartedneas  of 
iTOsme  all  idea  of 
ider  but  rauaeular 
be  aaorifioed,  why 
»!  and  the  Lord 

pectations,  witiiout 
bunt  into  a  loud 
t  fool,  I  never  saw 

ihn,  his  dark  eyer 
that  which  neidiei 
\f  that  same.  You 
ITou  had  better  not 
ajfbe,  you  aiid  the 
"  and,  shouldering 
get  scolded  by  me 

were  buay  making 
le  sugar,  ma'arm  ?" 
Mie  evening  by  die 


md  it's  myself  that 
gant  lump  of  that 

rd  at  work,  making 
cMnpleted  a  doeen, 
Bart  I  felt  a  little 
',  and  asked  a  thou- 
be  trou^  were  to 
ed,  the  sv^pu*  made, 


JOHN  MONAOHAS. 


li» 


,  To  all  my  queries,  John  responded,  «  Ooh!  'tis  Uligant.  U 
bates  all  the  sugar  that  ever  was  made  in  Jamaky.  But 
youll  see  before  to-morrow  night." 

Moodie  was  away  at  P ,  and  the  prospect  of  the  maple 

(Higar  relieved  the  dullness  occasioned  by  his  absence.  I 
reck«med  on  showing  him  a  piece  of  sugar  of  our  own  making 
when  he  came  home,  and  never  dreamt  of  the  posmbiUty  of 
disappointment. 

John  tapped  his  trees  after  the  most  approved  fiishion,  and 
set  his  troughs  to  catch  the  sap ;  but  Miss  Amanda  and  Mas- 
ter  Ammon  upset  them  as  fiwt  as  they  filled,  and  spilt  all 
the  sap.  With  great  difficulty,  Monaghan  saved  the  con- 
tents  of  one  lai^e  iron  pot  Tins  he  brought  in  about  night- 
faU,  and  made  up  a  roaring  fire,  in  order  to  boU  it  down 
into  sugar.  Hour  after  hour  passed  away,  and  the  sugar- 
maker  looked  as  hot  and  black  as  tlie  stoker  in  a  steam, 
boat  Many  timee  1  peeped  int^  the  large  pot,  but  the  sap 
never  seemed  to  diminidL 

«  This  is  a  twMous  piece  of  business,"  thouf^t  I,  but  seeing 
the  lad  so  anxious,  I  said  nothing.  About  twelve  o'clock,  he 
asked  me,  very  mysteriously,  for  a  i»ece  of  pork  to  hang 
over  the  sugar. 

"  Pork !"  said  I,  looking  into  the  pot,  which  was  half 
fiill  of  a  very  black-looking  liquid;  "  what  do  you  want  with 

pork?" 

"  Shure,  an'  'tis  to  keqp  the  sugar  ftom  burning." 

"But,  John,  I  see  no  sugar!" 

^  Odi,  but  'tis  all  sugar,  only  'Us  molasses  jJst  now.  See 
ho^T  it  sticks  to  the  ladle.  Aha !  but  Miss  Katie  will'have  the 
fine  lumpa  of  sugar  when  she  awakes  in  the  morning." 

«I  grew  so  tired  W»d  slftepy  tha,t  I  left  John  to  finish 
Ua  job,  went  to  bed,  nod  ^oon  forgpt  aU  about  the  m^to 
•qgar.    At  breakftst  I  obperv^d  *  «w»I\  pl*to  ujnm  thp  table. 


•^ 


-.1 


"r-'' "l?"?^-;; " 


vni 


Rouonmo  rr  a  nrx  boss. 


•:\W 


I ;    i" 


8'       ^'<' 


plaoed  In  a  very  oonspiouous  manner  on  Ao  tea^ray,  the  bofc 
torn  covered  with  a  hard,  black  aubstance,  wWch  very  muck 
leaembled  pitch.     "  What  is  that  dirty-looking  itufl^  John  V 

*<  Shure  an'  'tis  the  maple  sugar." 

*  Can  people  eat  that  1" 

"By  dad,  an'  they  can ;  only  thry  it,  ma'arm." 

«  Why,  'tis  so  hard,  I  cannot  cut  it." 

With  some  difficulty,  and  not  without  cutting  his  finger, 
John  broke  a  piece  o^  and  stuflfed  It  In  the  baby's  mouth. 
The  poor  child  made  a  horrible  face,  and  rejected  it  as  if  it 
had  been  poison.  For  my  own  part,  I  never  tasted  any  thing 
more  nauseous.  It  tasted  like  a  compound  of  pork  grease 
and  tbbaooo  juice.  "  Well,  Monaghan,  If  this  be  maple  sugar, 
I  never  wish  to  taste  any  again." 

«« Och,  bad  luck  to  it !"  said  the  lad,  fltoging  it  away,  plate 
and  all.    "  It  would  have  bewi  first-rate  but  for  the  dirty  pc* 
and  the  blackguard  cinders,  and  its  burmng  to  the  bottou  "'' 
the  pot    'Diat  owld  hag,  Mrs.  H ,  bewitched  it  mih  h 

evil  eye." 

"  She  Is  not  so  clever  as  you  tlnnk,  John,"  said  I,  laughing. 
"You  have  foigotten  how  to  make  the  sugar  aince  you  left 

D ;  but  let  us  forget  the  maple  sugar,  and  think  of  some* 

thing  else.    Had  you  not  bettor  get  old  Mrs.  H to  mend 

that  jacket  for  you ;  it  Is  too  ragged." 

"  Ay,  dad !  and  it's  mysel'  is  the  Uligant  tidlor.  Wasn't  f 
brought  up  to  the  thrade  in  the  Foundling  Hoepital  f* 

«  And  why  did  you  qmt  It  X" 

"  Because  it's  a  low,  mane  thrade  for  a  jintleman's  son  f 

•But,  John,  who  told  you  that  yoa  were  a  gentleman's 

•onl" 

♦*  Och  I  but  Pm  shure  of  it,  tjita.  All  my  propensities  are 
jfaitide.  I  love  horses,  and  dogs,  and  fine  dot^  and  money. 
Odii  titttlwas  but  a  ^hlilmiuHi!    Fd  show  them  what  lift 


■IMpilPW 


e»4a«y,  fhe  bot- 
Uch  very  tnudi 
Ingatiifl^  Johni" 


mn." 

iitting  his  finger, 
le  baby's  mouth, 
ected  it  as  if  it 
tasted  any  thing 
1  of  porlc  grease 
I  be  maple  sugar, 

ng  it  away,  plate 
for  the  dirty  pc! 
to  the  bottoni  '>"' 
tdied  it  with  i' 

'  said  I,  laughing, 
^r  nnoe  you  left 
nd  think  of  some- 
.  H to  mend 

tidlor.  Wasn't  r 
capital  r 

itleman's  son  f 
ire  a  gentleman's 

jT  propensities  are 
>tihes,  and  money. 
m  them  what  lift 


'  m. ;,.;,  ".mm,  !iff«tWiWifPll''f*!l' 


/omr  MosAQSi.^ 


m 


125 


li  totirely,  and  Pd  ohaUeiige  MMther  William,  and  ha^e  mj 
tevenge  out  of  Mm  for  theblowa  he  gave  me." 

«  You  had  better  mend  your  trowMn,"  said  I,  givfaig  Wm 
a  tailor's  needle, »  pair  of  sdaeora,  and  some  strong  thread, 

»  Shure,  an'  FU  do  that  same  in  a  bnwe  of  shakes,"  and 
sitting  down  upon  a  ricketty  tLreo-legged  stool  of  his  own 
manufhcturing,  he  commenced  his  tafloring  by  tearing  off  a 
piece  of  his  trowsers  to  patch  the  elbows  of  his  jacket  And 
this  trifling  act,  simple  as  it  may  appear,  was  a  perfect  type 
of  the  boy's  general  conduct,  aitd  nuffked  his  progress  through 
life.  The  present  for  him  was  every  thing ;  he  had  no  future. 
WhUe  he  suppUed  stuff  from  the  trowsers  to  repair  the  frac 
tares  in  the  jacket,  he  never  reflected  that  both  would  be 
lequired  on  the  morrow.  Poor  John !  in  his  brief  and  reck- 
less career,  how  often  have  I  reoaUed  that  foolish  act  of  his. 
It  now  appears  to  me  that  his  whole  Ufe  was  spent  in  tearing 
Us  trowsers  to  repair  Ids  jacket.  . 

In  the  evening  John  askedme  for  a  piece  of  soap. 
«  What  do  you  want^irith  soap,  John  1" 
•♦To  wash  my  sMrt,  ma'arm.    ffliure  an' I'm  a  baste  to  be 
■een,  as  black  as  the  pots.    Sorra  a  sWrt  have  I  but  the  one, 
an'  it  hssstuok  on  my  back  so  long  that  I  can  th-ii>  it  no 


I  looked  at  the  wrists  and  <»llar  of  the  condemned  gar- 
ment, whiob  ^  all  of  it  tiiat  John  allowed  to  be  visible. 
They  were  much  in  need  of  soap  and  water. 

"Well,  John,  I  will  leave  you  the  soap;  but  can  you 

washT 

«Och,  shure,  an'  1  can  thry.    If  1  soap  it  enough,  and  rub 

long  enou^  the  shiit  must  come  dane  at  last 

I  thought  the  matter  father  doubtftU ;  but  when  I  ^ent  to 
bed  I  left  what  he  required,  and  soon  saw  through  the  diinks 
ia  the  boards  a  roaring  fire,  and  heard  John  whistling  oyer 


".it. 


130 


BOUQWS/0  it  lit  tkH  BUHB. 


dw  tub.  He  whistled  anfl  rubbed;  and  ^iiMied  and  scrubbed, 
but  aa  there  aeemed  no  end  t»  the  job,  aUd  he  was  as  long 
washing  this  one  garment  as  Bell  would  haVe  been  pierfbrmtag 
the  same  operation  on  fifty,  I  laughed  to  myseH;  and  thought 

of  my  own  abortire  attempts  in  that  way,  and  went  fast 
Mleep.    in  the  morning  John  came  to  hi*  breakftst,  with  hif 

jacliet  buttoned  up  to  his  throat  .    ^     ,  •.  .    v 

«  Could  you  not  dry  your  shirt  by  the  fihsJohnl    You 

wUl  get  cold  wanting  it."  „     „  ., .  ^ 

"Aha,  by  dad !  it's  dhry  enough  now.    The  dlvfl  has  made 

tinder  of  it  long  afdre  this." 

«  Why,  what  has  happened  to  iti    I  heaid  you  washing 

all  night"  .     ^ 

"Washing !  Faith,  an'  I  did  scrub  it  till  mf  hands  were 
all  ruined  intirely,  and  tiiln  I  took  the  brush  to  it;  but  soira 
•  bit  of  the  dirt  could  I  get  out  of  it  The  more  I  robbed  the 
bU«*eritgot.untilIhad  used  u)p  dl  ^^^'-•ftjf  **/^- 
«.iration,L  pouring  off  me  like  «in.  'Youdirthy  owldbit 
of  a  blackguard  of  •  rag,'  says  I,  in  an  extremity  of  rage, 
•you're  not  fit  fi.r  the  bade  of  a  daoent  lad  an' a  jteUeman. 
"Die  divil  may  trite  ye  to  cover  ofte  of  his  impa;  an  wid  tta« 
I  sihirred  up  the  fire,  and  sent  it  ptamp  into  the  itaddte  of  Uie 

blaae." 

"AndwhatwinyoudttferaAirtr  ^^ 

"Frith,  do  «  many  a  bettlier  man  haa  done  albre  me,  go 

Hooked  up  two  old  shirts  of  my  husband's,  which  John 
received  with  an  ecstacy  of  delight  He  retired  tostantly  W 
the  stable,  but  soon  returned,  with  as  much  of  Uw  linen  brew* 
of  the  garment  displayed  as  his  waistcoat  would  iUovr.  No 
peacock  was  ever  prouder  of  hia  tril  than  the  wild  Irish  lad 
IS  of  the  old  shirt 

John  had  been  treated  very  much  like  a  spoiled  chQd,  and, 


jm»  in^ii^ttmkjf. 


m 


«d  and  scrubbed, 

I  he  WM  as  long 
tbeenpieffonning 
ttUt,  and  thouj^t 
y,  and  went  fiwt 
redcftst,  with  hif 

fire,  J<^1    You 

he  divfl  baa  made 

sard  you  waaUng 

II  my  hands  were 
ihtDit;  bntsorra 
more  I  mbbed  the 
soap,  and  the  per^ 
ott  dirthy  owld  bit 
BXtremity  of  rage, 
Id  an*  a  jintleman. 
mpa-,'  an'widthalf 
jthffiltlddleofUM 


d6ne'  aRnre  me,  go 

band's,  which  John 
retired  instantly  to 
I  of  the  linen  breast 
would  allow.  No 
a  the  wfld  Irish  lad 

aqpoiledd>ad,aiid, 


Uke  morti  spoiled  duldren,  he  was  rather  fond  of  having  Ws 
own  way.  Moodie  had  set  Una  to  do  something  which  was 
rather  contrary  to  Us  own  indinati(»is;  be  did  not  object  to 
the  task  in  words,  for  he  was  tarely  saucy  to  his  employers, 
but  he  lefk  the  following  stow  upon  the  toble,  written  in 
pendl  npoa  a  scrap  o^plkpe*  tf^  fMai  A»  bade  of  an  old 
hMtt:— 

'*  A  ana  iBve,  aa  ot  ■vagr  drivs 

Untofttpringiiil  «*U; 
Tsiulrahindriii^  aftharnqptUak^ 
llonMB«Miliim  ««ipdi 


i 


? 


m^^ 


!'•  j'Am 


MovoMoro  JT  a  tbm  bosk 


pa«BB 


CHAPTER  IZ. 


— ,    AHD   OOB   ■■OOSD    MOTIVS. 

«n«  dtod  iB  Mrty  womaabood, 
a«Mt  Mtoa  of  •  Mmi  M  nid* ; 
A  eUld  of  NMm)  ft««  Itoa  arti 
WHh  Madid  brow  aad  apM  hMrt  I 
Tte  lowMi  Ik*  l«v«d  w>w  imUj  w«T« 


Alwrahwlowud 


wmfr 


F!  WM  during  the  month  of  March  that  Uncle  Joe's  eldeat 
dao^iter,  Phoebo,  a  very  handsome  girl,  and  the  best  of 
the  fiunOy,  fbU  sick.  I  went  over  to  see  her.  The  poor  girl 
was  very  depressed,  and  stood  but  a  slight  chance  for  her  life, 
being  under  the  medical  treatment  of  three  or  four  old  wo- 
men, who  all  leoommmded  different  treatment  and  admfai* 
iitered  different  nostrums.  Seeing  that  the  poor  girl  was 
dangeroudy  ill,  I  took  her  mother  adde,  and  begged  her  to 
lose  no  time  in  procuring  proper  medical  advice.  Mrs.  Joe 
listened  to  me  very  sullenly,  and  said  there  was  no  danger; 
that  Phoebe  had  cau^t  a  violent  oold  by  going  hot  from  the 
wash-tub  to  fetch  a  pail  of  water  from  the  spring;  that  the 
neighbours  knew  the  nature  of  her  complabt,  and  would  soon 
cure  her. 

The  invalid  turned  upon  me  her  fine  dark  eyes,  in  which  the 
light  of  fever  painfiilly  burned,  and  motioned  me  to  come  near 
her.    I  i«at  down  by  her,  and  took  her  burning  hand  in  min» 

« I  am  dying,  Mrs.  Moodie,  but  they  won't  believe  me.  ' 
wish  you  would  talk  to  mother  to  send  for  the  doctor." 


PH(EBt  B—. 


13» 


MOTI>«. 


Dcle  Joe's  eldent 
and  the  best  of 
r.  The  poor  girl 
lance  for  her  life, 
or  four  old  wo* 
nent  and  admnw 
lie  poor  girl  was 
id  begged  her  to 
dvice.  Mrs.  Joe 
)  was  no  danger; 
ting  hot  from  the 
I  spring;  that  the 
b,  and  would  soon 

eyes,  in  which  the 
me  to  come  near 
ng  hand  in  min» 
a't  believe  me. 
;he  doctor." 


"Iwill.    Is  there  any  thing  I  can  do  for  you  T-any  thing  I 
.«n  make  for  vou,  that  you  would  like  to  toke  1 

hand  tiahtly  between  her  own.    Her  eyes  looneu  u»       , 
WfevS  cheek  paled.    «  What  become,  of  people  when 

^'^'uSc^' heavens!"  I  excla.     .  involuntarily ;« can  you  be 
ignorant  of  a  fiiture  state  1" 

«*  What  is  a  future  state  T*  u  -  ♦i.o 

I  Itvoured,  as  well  a,  I  was  able,  to  explamto^  t^ 

nature  of  the  soul,  ite  endless  duration,  and  "yj™""^^ 
^^  fori  actions  done  in  tiie  flesh;  its  natural  depravi^ 

l^ofaSaviour;  ^-^-^^^'"f^^^^^ZZ 
lose  no  time  In  obtaining  fonslvenea.  of  her  sms.  through  the 

a^rtC-~-n»-**>»"'-     Shesatiaceonem. 
dr^.^the  truth  .K^med  to  flash  upon  her  at^^^ 

"How  can  I  speak  to  God,^who  never  knew  Hur.]    How 

can  I  ask  Him  to  forgive  me  1" 

«  You  must  pray  to  Him.**  „«.„„ 

«Pray!  I  don't  know  how  to  pray.  I  never  said  a  prayer 
inmylife.    Mother;  can  you  teach  me  how  to  pray? 

"'Nonsense!"  «iid  Mrs.  Joe.  ^urrybg  forward  "Why 
Aould  you  trouble  yourself  about  m*  tht^'f  Y  iiS" 
SI  dSre  you  not  t»  put  such  thought*  into  my  dau^rt 
^.    We  don't  want  Jo  know  «iy  thh«  about  Jesus  Chnst 

*"%h,mother.don't.peric«>t»  the  lady!    Do,  Mrs.  Moo- 
dle.teUrinc^*^God«.dmy.oul.  I  never  knew  until 

""Cly -;:lLl^       HPK^-Ce  of  the  poor  girl.  I. 

8* 


\ 


lao 


BOUQniNO  IT  or  TBM  BUSH. 


■pito  of  the  meniww  (^  the  beatben  moUwr— for  she  was  nu 
better,  but  ratber  worw,  seeing  tbat  the  beathen  worslups 
in  ign(n«noe  a  false  God,  while  this  woman  lived  without 
acknowledging  a  God  at  all,  and  tberefoie  .,.n«i.lewi  ner- 
self  free  from  all  moral  i«straint— 1  bid  f  noebe  good^oye, 
and  promised  to  bring  my  bible,  and  read  to  her  the  nest 

day. 

The  gratitude  manifested  by  this  sicx  girl  was  such  a  con- 
trast to  the  rudeness  and  brutality  of  the  rest  of  the  family, 
that  I  8u<Mi  felt  a  powerful  interest  in  her  fiite. 

The  mother  did  not  actually  forbid  me  the  house,  because 
she  saw  that  my  viwts  raised  the  drooping  spirits  of  her 
child,  whom  she  fiercely  loved,  and,  to  save  her  life,  would 
cheerfully  have  sacrificed  her  own.  But  she  never  fiuled  to 
make  all  the  noise  she  could  to  disturb  my  reading  and  con- 
versation  with  Phoebe.  She  could  not  be  persuaded  that  her 
daughter  was  really  in  any  danger,  until  the  doctor  told  her 
that  her  case  was  hopeless;  then  the  grief  of  the  mother  burst 
forth,  and  she  gave  way  to  the  most  frantic  and  impious  com- 
pbunings. 

The  rigour  of  the  winter  began  to  abate.  The  beams  of 
the  sun  during  the  day  were  warm  and  penetrating,  and  a  soft 
wind  blew  from  the  south.  I  watched,  from  day  to  day,  the 
snow  disappearing  from  the  earth,  wiUi  indescribable  pleas- 
ure,  and  at  length  it  wholly  vanished ;  not  ev«»  a  solitary 
patch  lingtted  under  the  shade  of  the  forest  trees;  but  Uncle 
Joe  gave  no  sgn  of  removing  his  family." 

"Does  he  mean  to  stay  all  the  summer  1"  thought  L 
"Perhaps  he  never  intends  going  at  all.  I  will  ask  him,  the 
next  time  he  comes  to  borrow  whiskey." 

In  the  Afternoon  hP  walked  >a  to  light  his  pipe,  and,  with 
some  anxiety,  I  made  the  inquiry. 

**  WeU,  I  guess  we  ew't  be  moving  afore  the  end  of  May 


T*^f"' 


ouM  aMOOND  Mormo. 


ISl 


■iw  wuno 

itJten  wonhipt 

lived  without 

■in<iiiler««i  ner- 

Bb«  goofUbye, 

Ito  her  tiw  next 

was  auoh  a  oon- 
it  of  the  familjr, 

house,  because 

spirits  of  her 

her  life,  would 

never  fiuled  to 

reading  and  coo- 

rsuaded  that  her 

doctor  told  her 

Jie  mother  burst 

ind  impious  com- 

The  beams  of 
rating,  and  a  soft 
day  to  day,  the 
aeoribable  pleas- 
even  a  solitary 
rees;  but  Uncle 

ert"   thought  L 
rill  asic  him,  the 

pipe,  and,  with 

ihe  end  of  May 


My  missus  expects  to  be  ootaflned  the  fore  part  of  die  mouthy 
and  I  shan't  move  till  she  be  quite  smart  agin." 

"  You  are  not  using  us  well,  in  keeping  us  out  of  the  house . 
so  long." 

**  Oh,  I  don't  care  a  curse  about  any  of  you.  It  ts  my 
house  as  long  as  I  choose  to  remain  in  it,  and  you  may  put 
up  with  it  the  best  way  you  can;  and,  humming  a  Yanlcee 
tune,  he  departed. 

I  had  borne  patiently  the  odious,  cribbed-up  place  during 
the  winter,  but  now  the  hot  weather  was  coming,  it  seemed 
almost  insupportable,  as  we  were  obliged  to  have  a  iire  in 
the  close  room,  in  order  to  oodlc  our  provirions.  I  consoled 
myself  as  well  as  I  could  by  roaming  about  the  fields  and 
woods,  and  making  acquaintance  with  every  wild  flower  as  it 
blossomed,  and  in  writing  long  letters  to  home  friends,  in 
whidi  I  abused  one  fA  the  finest  countries  in  the  world  as  the 
worst  that  God  ever  called  out  of  diaos.  I  can  recall  to 
memory,  at  this  niomeAt,  the  few  lines  of  a  poem  wMdi  oom- 
menoed  in  this  strain ;  nor  ain  I  sorry  that  the  rest  of  it  has 
passed  into  oblivion: — 

Oh  t  land  of  wmton,  how  mj  aplrit  Utm, 
In  the  dark  priaon  of  thy  bonndlaaa  woods ; 

Ko  raral  oharm  poetio  thought  inspirea, 
No  mnaio  mamnra  in  thy  mighty  flooda ; 

Thongh  vaat  the  feato:  i  tliat  oompoaa  thy  flrama. 

Tam  when  we  will,  the  landaoape  'a  atill  the  aams. 

The  awampy  maigin  of  thy  inland  aeaa, 

The  eternal  forest  girdling  either  <hore, 
Its  belt  of  dark  pinea  sighing  in  the  breeie, 

And  rugged  Selds,  with  mdri  hats  dotted  o'er, 
Show  onltiration  nnimproved  by  art, 
That  aheds  a  barren  ohiliness  on  tl  e  heart 

How  many  home-slek  emigrants,  during  their  first  wintet 


% 


% 
% 


ISS 


Bouaaaia  it  or  thm  bvbb. 


in  CkiudA,  wUl  respond  to  thU  gloomy  pioturel  Let  then 
wait  a  few  years;  the  ran  of  hope  wiU  arua  and  beautify  the 
Imdaoape,  and  they  wUl  prodaim  the  oountty  one  of  the  finest 

in  the  world. 

The  middle  of  May  at  length  arrived,  and,  by  the  number 
of  long,  lean  women,  with  handkorchieft  of  all  colours  Ued 
over  their  heads,  who  passed  my  door,  and  swarmed  into 
Mrs.  Joe's  house,  I  righUy  concluded  that  another  young  one 
had  been  added  to  the  tribe;  and,  shortly  after,  Unde  Joe 
himself  announced  the  important  fact,  by  putting  his  jolly 
red  face  in  at  the  door,  and  telling  me,  that  "  his  missus  had 
got  a  chopping  boy ;  and  he  was  right  glad  of  it,  for  he  was 
tired  of  so  many  gals,  and  that  he  should  move  in  a  fortnight, 
if  his  woman  did  lundly." 

I  had  been  so  often  disappointed  that  I  paid  very  UtUe 
heed  to  hun,  but  this  time  he  kept  his  word. 

The  la$t  day  of  May,  they  went,  bag  and  baggage,  the 
poor  sick  Phoebe,  who  stiU  lingered  on,  and  the  new-born  in- 
fhnt;  and  right  joyfblly  I  sent  a  Scotch  gtl  (another  Bell, 
whom  I  had  hired  in  lieu  of  her  I  had  lost),  and  Monaghan, 
to  clean  out  the  Augean  stable.  In  a  few  mmutes  John  re- 
turned,  panting  with  indignation.  ^ 

"The  house,"  he  said,  "was  more  filthy  than  a  pig-sty. 
But  that  was  not  the  worst  of  it,  Uncle  Joe,  before  he  went, 
had  undermined  the  brick  chimney,  and  let  all  the  water  fato 
the  house.  "  Oh,  but  if  he  comes  here  agin,"  he  continued, 
grinding  his  teetii  and  doubling  Ms  fist,  "  I'll  tiirash  him  for 
it.  And  thin,  ma'arm,  he  has  girdled  round  aU  Uie  best  graft 
apple-trees,  the  murtherin»  owld  vilhun,  as  if  it  could  spUe  his 
^gestion  our  ating  them." 

» It  would  require  a  strong  stomadi  to  digest  apple-trees, 
John;  but  never  mind,  it  can't  be  helped,  and  we  may  be 
very  thuikfhl  that  these  people  are  gwe  at  last" 


OUR  SECOND  Movnro. 


Itt 


rel  Let  theoi 
Dd  bewtUy  tha 
sne  of  the  finest 

by  tibe  number 
til  colours  tied 
swarmed  into 
tther  young  one 
iter,  Unde  Joe 
utting  his  jolly 
*  bis  missus  had 
f  it,  for  he  was 
e  in  a  fortnight, 

paid  very  little 

nd  baggage,  the 
he  new-bom  in* 

I  (another  Bell, 
and  Monaghan, 
ainutes  John  re- 

than  a  pig-sty." 
,  before  he  went, 

II  Uie  water  into 
,**  he  continued, 
11  thrash  him  for 
all  the  best  graft 
it  could  spile  his 

igest  apple-trees, 
and  we  may  be 


John  and  Bell  scrubbed  at  the  bouse  all  day,  "^  l«  *• 
•Toning  they  carried  over  the  fiimiture,  and  I  went  to  Inspect 

our  new  dwelling.  .      «  n  v-j  «k:»A 

It  looked  beautifully  dean  uA  neat     Bell  l»d  white 

washed  all  the  black,  smoky  wall.  «.d  ^f^jf"^ 
wd  scrubb«i  the  dirty  window-frames,  and  polished  Uie  fly- 
spotted  pane,  of  glass,  untU  they  actually  admitted  a  ghmp|» 
of  the  c^  air  and  the  blue  sky.    Snow-white  fringed  cur- 
tains and  a  bed,  with  fiimiture  to  correspond,  a  carpeted  floor, 
and  ;  large  pot  of  green  bough,  on  the  ^-^^""'^^^"'^^ 
air  of  comfort  and  deanliness  to  a  «»"  J^^**'/f  ^ 'JJ^ 
hours  before,  had  been  a  loathsome  den  ^^^^'^^^^ 
TOs  duuge  would  have  been  very  gratifying,  had  not  a 
rtrong,  disagreeable  odour  almost  deprived  me  of  my  breath 
«~^;terTu«  room.    It  was  unlike  any  thing  1  l«id  ever 
«nelt  before,  and  turned  me  so  .idc  «»d  fiunt  that  1  had  to 
ding  to  the  door-post  for  ropport; 

"  Where  does  tUs  dreadful  smell  come  firomr 

"  The  guidne- know.,  ma'am ;  John  and  I  have  «««hed 

thehouM  from  the  loft  to  the  odUr,  but  we  cam»  find  out 
ihecaiweof  thae  rtink." 

-  It  must  be  in  the  worn,  Bdl ;  and  it  ia  Imposdble  to 
remain  here,  or  live  in  Uii.  house,  unta  it  is  removed. 

Glandng  my  eyes  all  round  the  ph«»,  I  .pled  what  j^eemed 

to  me  a  UtUe  cupboard,over  the  mantel.shelf,and  I  told  John 
to  Me  if  I  was  right    The  lad  mounted  upon  a  chair,  and 
pulled  open  a  «naU  door,  but  almost  fell  to  the  ground  with 
S»  dreadfiil  stench  whldi  seemed  to  rush  from  the  clowt 
«« What  is  it,  Johnl"  I  cried  from  the  open  door. 
«.  A  Aunk  I  ma'arm,  a  Aunk!    Shure,  I  thought  tto  Jvfl 
hadMorahed  hi.  tail,  and  left  U»e  griided  luur  behind  Wm^ 
What  a  strong  perfiime  it  ha.r  he  continued,  holdmg  up  the 
bcftutifbl  but  odiou.  litfle  creature  by  the  tiril 


.  I  r 


r 


'1S4  Kouonum  it  or  the  bush. 

*<  By  dad !  I  know  all  about  H  now.  I  mw  Ned  Lajrton, 
only  two  days  ago,  croning  the  field  with  Unde  Joe,  with  hii 
gun  on  hia  shoulder,  and  this  wee  bit  baste  in  his  hand.  They 
were  both  kughing  like  siaty.  *  Well,  if  this  does  nut  stink 
the  SootohniAn  out  of  the  house,'  said  Jor,  *  1*11  be  oonthit  tu^ 
be  tarred  and  feathered ;'  and  thfai  they  both  laughed  until 
they  stopped  to  draw  breath." 

I  could  hardly  help  laugUng  myself;  but  I  begged 
Monsghan  to  convoy  the  horrid  creature  away,  and  putting 
some  salt  and  sulphur  into  a  tin  plate,  and  setting  fire  to  it,  I 
placed  it  on  the  floor  hi  the  middle  of  the  room,  and  closed 
all  the  doors  for  an  hour,  which  |ro»tly  M««t«d  in  purifying 
the  house  from  the  skunkifioation.  B«)ll  then  washed  out  the 
closet  with  strong  ley,  and  in  a  diort  time  no  vestige  re- 
mained of  the  roaliciona  trick  that  Unde  Joe  had  played  off 
upon  us. 

The  next  day,  we  took  possession  of  our  new  mansion,  and 
no  one  was  better  pleased  with  the  change  than  little  Katie. 
She  was  now  fifteen  months  i>ld,  mA  could  just  begin  to  prat- 
tle, but  site  dared  not  venture  to  step  alone,  although  she 
would  stand  by  a  chair  all  day,  and  even  olimb  upon  it  She 
crept  from  room  to  room,  feeling  and  admiring  every  thing, 
and  talking  to  it  hi  her  b«by  language.  So  fond  was  the  dear 
child  of  flowers,  that  her  Ihther  used  to  bold  her  up  to  the 
applo-treee,  then  rich  in  their  full  spring  beauty,  that  she 
might  kiss  the  blossoms.  She  would  pat  them  with  her  soft 
white  hands,  murmuring  like  a  bee  among  the  brandies.  To 
keep  her  quiet  whilst  I  was  busy,  I  had  only  to  give  her  a 
bunch  of  wild  flowers.  She  would  sit  as  still  as  a  lamb,  look. 
bg  first  at  one  and  then  at  another,  pressing  them  to  her  little 
breast  in  a  sort  of  eostacy,  as  if  she  oomiH*ehended  the  worth 
of  this  most  beautifbl  of  God's  gifts  to  man. 

She  was  a  sweet,  lovely  flower  herself^  and  her  dnrmfaig 


Ned  Lsjton, 

lie  Joe,  with  hit 

i  hia  hand.    They 

lie  does  nut  stink 

fill  be  oontintto. 

laughed  until 

but  I  begged 
wny,  and  putting 
etting  fire  to  it,  I 
room,  and  closed 
■ted  in  purifying 
n  washed  out  the 
le  no  vestige  re- 
oe  had  played  off 

new  mansion,  and 
than  little  Katie, 
just  begin  to  prat- 
one,  although  she 
mb  upon  it    She 
liring  every  thing, 
Pond  was  tiie  dear 
>ld  her  up  to  the 
beauty,  that  she 
lem  with  her  soft 
he  branches.    To 
nly  to  give  her  a 
t  as  a  lamb,  look- 
them  to  her  little 
^ded  the  worth 

ad  her  cfaarrafa^ 


OUR  SKOOND  MOVISa. 


186 


infant  graces  reconciled  me,  more  than  aught  else,  to  a  wear; 
lot.  WaH  she  not  purely  British?  Did  not  her  soft  blue 
eyes,  and  sunny  curia,  and  bright  rosy  cheeks  for  ever  remind 
me  of  her  Saxon  origin,  and  britg  before  me  dear  forms  and 
fmtes  I  could  never  hope  to  behold  again  1 

The  fir8t  night  we  slept  in  tlie  new  house,  a  demon  of  un- 
rest had  taken  putwefwion  of  it  in  the  shape  of  a  countless 
awurm  of-  mice.  Thoy  scampered  over  our  pillows,  and 
jumped  upon  our  faces,  squeaking  and  cutting  a  thousand 
capers  over  the  floor.  1  never  cou.'^l  realize  the  true  value  of 
Whittington's  invaluable  cat  unti'  that  night.  At  fii  \  we 
laughed  until  our  sides  ached,  but  .n  reali  y  it  wa<  no  laugh- 
ing matter.  Moodic  remembered  that  w;>  had  \i^h  a  mouse- 
trap in  the  old  house ;  he  went  and  brought  it  ov^r,  baited  it, 
and  set  it  on  the  table  near  the  bod.  Duri.^  the  nigh  ;o 
less  than  fourteen  of  the  provoking  vermin  were  captu/  ^ ; 
and  for  several  succeeding  nights  the  trap  did  equal  ex  cu'ion. 
How  Uncle  Joe's  fiunily  could  have  allowe<?  -<Hch  a  nuisance 
to  exist  astonished  me;  to  sleep  with  thr^  u-^tures  con- 
tinually running  over  us  was  impossible ;  &ad  they  were  not 
the  only  evils  in  the  shape  of  vermin  we  bad  to  contend  with. 
The  old  logs  which  composed  the  walls  of  the  house  were  full 
of  bugs  and  large  blaok  ants ;  and  the  place,  owing  to  the 
number  of  dogs  that  always  had  slept  under  the  beds  with 
the  children,  was  infested  with  fleas.  It  retjii.ed  the  utmost 
care  to  rid  the  place  of  these  noisome  and  disgusting  tenants. 
Arriving  in  the  country  in  the  autumn,  we  had  never  exp^ 
rienced  any  inconvenience  from  the  mosquitoes,  but  after 
tiie  first  moist,  varm  spring  days,  particularly  after  the 
ahowers,  these  tormenting  insects  annoyed  us  greatly.  The 
&rm,  lying  in  a  valley  cut  ik  with  little  streams  in  every 
direction,  made  us  more  I  .ule  to  their  inflictions.  The 
Jtfpd^iinD^  and  face  ojT  iJ^  ptjor  babe  wero  ouveEed  ewary 


*>   ■■  ■  ^ 


■  *>!'■..*.■  ■■^,1  -.Tic   ■:-^.' 


& 


136  BOUOmNtt  IT  m  TBS  BUSB. 

monibig  with  red  tnflamed  bumps,  wWoh  often  threw  oat 

blisters.  \i  _. .     n^i 

The  biiiks  of  the  little  Btreatns  abounded  with  wfld  straw- 
berries,  wWoh,  although  small,  were  of  a  delicious  flavour. 
Thither  Bell  and  I,  and  the  baby,  daily  repaired  to  gather  the 
bright  red  berries  of  Nature's  own  providing.    Katie,  young 
as  she  was,  was  very  expert  at  helping  herself,  and  we  used  to 
aeat  her  in  the  middle  of  a  fine  bed,  whOst  we  gathered  fci^ 
ther  on.    Hearing  her  talking  very  lovingly  to  something  fa 
the  grass,  which  she  tried  to  clutch  betweMi  her  white  hands, 
calling  it  "  Pitty,  pitty  j"  I  ran  to  the  spot,  and  found  that  it 
was  a  large  garter«ake  that  she  was  so  affectionately  court- 
ing  to  her  embrace.    Not  then  aware  that  tlds  formidable- 
looldng  reptUe  was  perfectly  harmless,  I  snatched  the  chUd  up 
fa  my  arms,  and  ran  with  her  home;  never  stopping  until  I 
gafaed  the  house,  and  saw  her  safely  seated  in  her  cradle. 

b  hid  beai  a  very  late,  cold  sprfag,  but  the  trees  had  fiilly 
expanded  into  leaf,  and  the  forest  world  was  gloriou*  fa  its 
beauty.  Every  pirtch  of  cleared  land  presented  a  vivid  green 
to  the  eye;  the  brook  brawled  fa  the  gay  sunshfae,  and  the 
warm  air  was  filled  with  soft  murmurs.  Gorgeous  butterffiea 
floated  about  Uke  winged  flowers,  and  feelings  allied  to  poetry 
and  gladness  onoe  more  pervaded  my  heart,  fa  the  evening 
we  wandered  tlurough  the  woodland  paths,  beneath  the  glow- 
ing C^uiadian  sunset,  and  gathered  rare  tpeoimens  of  strange 
pfanta  and  flowers.  Every  object  that  met  my  eyes  was  new 
to  me,  and  produced  that  peculiar  exdtement  wWoh  has  its 
origin  fa  a  thirst  for  knowledge,  and  a  lore  of  variety. 

We  had  commenced  gardening,  too,  and  my  v^tablea 
did  great  credit  to  my  skill  and  care ;  and,  when  once  thfe 
wvrm  weather  seta  fa,  the  rapid  advance  of  vegetation  fa  Omp 
•da  is  astoniildng.  Not  underrtanding  much  about  Arming 
•specially  fa  •  dimate  like  Osnada,  Moodie  was  advised  br  • 


!^?  ' 


COS  aMoom  Moran. 


191 


(ten  thfenf  out 

Kritli  wfld  straw- 
elioious  flavour, 
ed  to  gather  the 
;.    Katie,  young 
i  and  we  naed  to 
ire  (^ihered  fhp- 
to  aometUng  in 
ler  white  handa, 
ind  found  diat  it 
otiotiately  court- 
tliis  formidable* 
)hed  the  child  up 
stopping  until  I 
n  her  cradle, 
le  trees  had  foify 
ts  glorioua  in  its 
ted  a  Tivid  green 
■unriiine,  and  the 
rgeous  butterffies 
B  allied  to  poetry 
In  the  evening 
eneatfi  the  glow- 
imens  of  strange 
my  eyes  was  new 
ent  wtucfa  has  its 
of  variety, 
id  my  T^tablea 
id,  when  once  thb . 
vegetation  in  CSiop 
oh  about  Arming 
was  advised  br  « 


ndghboutbg  sattler  to  ftrm  Us  fiMm.i^ai  shares.  This  ad 
vioa  seemed  very  reascmable;  and  had  it  been  given  diainte^ 
estedly,  and  bad  the  persons  reoommended  (a  man  and  hia 
wife)  beep  worthy  pr  honest  people,  we  might  have  d<me  very 
welL  But  the  ftnner  had  found  out  their  encroaching  ways, 
was  anxious  to  get  rid  of  them  hiaosel^  and  saw  no  better  way 
of  dcung  so  than  by  palming  them  upon  us. 

From  our  engagement  with  these  people  commenced  that 
long  series  of  losses  and  troubles  to  wluch  thdr  conduct 
formed  the  prelude.    They  were  to  live  in  the  little  shanty 
that  we  had  just  left,  and  work  the  farm.   Moodie  was  to  find 
them  the  land,  the  use  of  his  implements  and  cattle,  and  all 
the  seed  (or  the  crops ;  and  to  share  with  them  the  returns. 
Beades  tiiis,  they  unfortuuately  were  allowed  to  keep  th«r 
own  cows,  pigs,  and  poultry.    The  produce  of  the  orchard, 
with  wludi  they  had  nothing  to  do,  was  reserved  for  our  own 
nae.    Fot  the  fyt^  few  weeks,  they  were  civil  and  obli|png 
enough ;  and  had  the  man  been  left  to  himself,  I  believe  we 
should  have  done  pretty  well;  but  the  wife  was  a  oouse. 
minded,  bold  woman,  who  instigated  him  to  every  mischief. 
They  took  advantage  of  us  in  every  way  they  could,  and  were 
omstantly  committing  petty  depredations. 

From  our  own  experience  of  this  mode  of  forming,  I  would 
strenuously  advise  all  new  settlers  never  to  embrace  any  such 
offer,  without  they  are  well  acquainted  with  the  p«rdes,  and 
can  thoroughly  rely  upon  their  honesty ;  or  else,  like  Mrs. 

O ,  they  may  impudently  tell  you  diat  they  can  cheat 

you  as  they  please,  and  defy  you  to  help  yourself  All  the 
money  we  spent  on  the  fkrm  was  aatirely  for  these  peofde's 
benefit,  for  by  their  joint  contrivances  very  little  of  the  crops 
fell  to  our  share ;  and  when  any  division  «^.  made,  it  wss 
always  when  Moodie  was  absent  from  home ;  and  tliere  waa 
110  person  present  to  see  fiur  play.    They  sold  what  apples 


..diu 


188 


Boasttms  tr  ^  iia  iirsn. 


and  potatoes  they  plMeed,  and  fed  their  hogs  tti  UbUutn. 
But  even  their  roguery  wa*  liioi«  tolerable  than  the  irksome 
restraint  which  their  near  vicfaiity,  and  eonsequently  having 
to  come  in  contact  with  them,  imposed.  We  had  no  lotiger 
any  privacy,  ojr  servants  were  cross^juestioned,  and  our 
flmiily  af&irs  canvassed  by  these  gossiping  people,  who  [q>read 
about  a  thousand  ftlseboods  regarding  us.  I  was  so  much 
disgusted  with  this  shareship,  that  I  would  gladly  have  given 
them  all  the  proceeds  of  the  fkrm  to  get  rid  of  them,  but  the 
bargain  was  for  twelve  months,  and  bad  as  it  was.  we  could 
not  break  our  engagement. 

One  little  trick  of  this  woman's  will  serve  to  illustrate  her 
general  conduct  A  neighbouring  (krmer's  wife  had  presented 
mo  with  some  very  pretty  hens,  who  followed  to  the  call  of 
old  Betty  Fye's  handsome  gam&cock.  I  was  always  fond 
of  fowls,  and  the  innocent  Katie  delighted  m  her  chicks,  and 
would  call  them  round  her  to  the  sill  of  the  door  to  feed  flt>m 

her  hand.    Mrs.  O had  the  same  number  as  I  had,  and  I 

often  adndrdd  them  when  mardialled  forth  by  her  splendid' 
black  rooster.  One  morning  I  sa^  her  eldest  son  chop  off  the 
head  of  the  fine  bird ;  and  1  asked  his  mother  why  she  had 
allowed  him  to  kill  die  beautiAil  creature.  She  lauded,  and 
merely  replied  tliat  she  wanted  it  for  the  pot  The  next  day 
my  niltan  walked  over  to  the  widowed  hens,  and  took  all  his 
serac^o  with  him.  From  that  hour  I  never  gathered  a  single 
egg ;  the  hens  deposited  all  their  eggs  in  Mrs.  O ^*s  hen- 
house. ISHie  used  to  boast  of  this  as  an  excellent  joke  among 
her  neighbours. 

On  the  9th  of  June  my  dear  little  Agnes  was  bom.  A 
km  days  after  this  joyftd  event,  I  heard  a  great  bustle  in  the 
room  adjoining'to  mine,  and  old  Dolly  Rowe,  my  Cornish 
nurse,  informed  me  that  it  ww  oocarioned  by  the  people  who 
came  to  attend  the  flmeral  of  Phcebt  H .    She  ixily  sur- 


•■.  ..tef4,SWsR* 


ogs  ad  UbUum. 
ban  die  irksome 
lequetitly  having 

had  no  lotsger 
doned,  and  our 
ople,  who  spread 

I  was  so  much 
adly  have  given 
of  them,  but  the 
it  was.  we  could 

)  to  illustrate  her 
ife  had  presented 
id  to  the  call  of 
was  alwayn  fond 
n  her  chicks,  and 
door  to  feed  from 
er  as  I  had,  and  I 
1  by  her  splendid' 
st  son  chop  off  the 
ther  why  she  had 
She  lauded,  and 
}t.  The  next  day 
is,  ttid  took  all  his 
'  gathered  a  shtgle 

Itfrs.  O 's  hen. 

ellent  joke  among 

leswas  bom.  A 
great  bustle  in  the 
towe,  my  Comisfa 
>y  the  people  who 
-»    1^  only  sur- 


oux  SEOOND  Movarg. 


1» 


ftved  the  removal  of  the  &mily  a  week;  and  at  her  own 

■equest  had  been  brought  all  the  way  from  tlM lake 

pluns  to  be  interred  in  the  buryingig  round  on  the  hill  which 
overlooked  the  stream. 

As  I  lay  upon  my  {mUow  I  flonM  dlaliBody  see  tiM  qBOt^ 
and  mark  tlw  long  fimeral  pvooession,  aa  it  wound  along  tha 
banks  of  the  brook.  It  was  •  solemn  and  imposing  spectacle, 
that  humble  funeral.  When  thewagocn  reached  the  rude 
endosure,  the  cofim  was  carefiilly  lifted  to  the  gnwnd,  the  door 
in  tii»  lid  opened,  and  old  and  young  approacfaed,  one  after 
another,  to  take  a  last  Icok  at  the  dead,  before  oonaignii^  her 
to  the  oblivion  of  the  grave. 

Poor  Phoebe !  GaiUe  child,  of  coarse,  nnfa^ng  parenta, 
few  shed  more  sinceroly  a  tear  for  thy  early  fiUe  than  the 
stranger  whom  they  hated  and  despised.  Often  hav«  I  stood 
beside  that  humble  mound,  when  the  song  of  the  lariK  was 
above  me,  and  the  bee  murmuring  at  my  feet,  and  thought 
that  it  was  well  for  thee  that  God  opened  the  eyes  of.  tfcy  soul 
and  called  thee  out  of  the  darkness  of  ignorance  and  sin,  tc 
glory  fai  His  marvdlous  l^ht  Sixteen  years  have  passed  away 
«nce  I  heard  any  thing  of  die  fiuaily,  or  what  had  become  of 
dwm,  when  I  was  told  by  a  neighbour 'of  dufars,  vhtmi  I  acci- 
dentally met  last  winter,  that  the  old  woman,  wlw  now  neariy 
numbers^  hundred  years,  is  still  living,  and  inhabits  a  oomer 
of  her  son^s  bam,  aa  she  still  quarrela  too  much  witbhia  wife 
to  reside  with  Joe ;  that  the  girls  are  all  married  and  gone ; 
Mid  that  Joe  iumsel^  aldiough  ha  does  not  know  a  letter,  has 
•ommenced  travelling  preacher.  Aftar  this,  who  can  douhitkt 
of  miracles  in  the  nineteenth  oentwy  % 


140 


MomBmo  iris  THE  bush. 


w- 


CHAPTER  X. 

■  EIAV,    THB    ■TII.L-HDHI»». 

Fb^  «J  now  «d  then  .tirring  the  cradle  witi^  iny 
foot^tS,  thin,  n.iddl^  «.a  wdked  into  the  ho««. 

^tK^^ZTto  advaneed  to  the  hearth,  wd  without  n»eaki^ 

of  the  largest  8«e,»  de-vohested,  and  rtroogJimbed. 

nearly  hald,  was  «t«^^«V?"  _,„  ^riirh,  his  oomplewon 
,^  M«  muoh  MOBloiDed  to  amile,<>»  oit«  •»  " 


■  -^  ;<rv  ;i:^  Mjj'gk-- 1  uiMHwifi  jfcw 


^itii;.  *  ■   ^  -  -  '^  -  ^iigii^aitiii 


LRIAN,  TEX  STILL-HUNTSB. 


141 


B. 


I  ahanty,  preparing 
le  cradle  with  my 
ked  into  the  house, 

loulder,  hi  a  oomer 
i  without  speaking, 
pe,  and  oommenoed 
snapping  at  the  cat, 
lourteouB  reception, 
de  of  thwr  tadtum 
B  if  long  habit  had 

There  waa  a  great 
B  a  brindled  buUdog 
powerAil brute;  the 

and  Btroog-limbed. 
ipamons  with  talent 

ITS  of  age;  his  head, 
with  Btorong,  coarse, 
^^  )u8  complexion 
B,  and  colour,  greatly 
(6  itself  was  soTTOwM 
lips  looked  as  if  they 
ft  oftoii  to  undoee  to 


hold  social  communion  with  any  one.  He  sto»)d  at  the  «de 
of  the  huge  hearth,  silenUy  smoking,  his  eyes  bent  on  the  fire, 
md  now  and  then  he  patted  the  heads  of  his  dogs,  reproving 

their  eiubenmt  expressions  of  attachment,  with-  Down, 
Mune ;  down,  Oiance !" 

«A  cold,  dear  morning,"  said  I,  in  order  to  attract  his 
attention  and  draw  him  into  conversation. 

A  nod,  without  raising  his  head,  or  witiidrawing  his  eyes 
from  tiie  fire,  was  his  only  answer;  and,  turning  from  my 
unsodable  guest,  I  took  up  the  baby,  who  just  then  awoke,  sat 
down  on  a  low  stool  by  tfie  table,  and  began  feeding  her. 
During  tills  operatian,  I  once  or  twice  caught  the  stranger  s 
hawkiVe  fixed  upon  me  and  tiie  child,  but  word  spoke  he 
none ;  and  presentiy,  after  whisfling  to  his  dogs,  he  resumed 

lus  gun,  and  strode  out  ,  -      i  *  i  j 

When  Moodie  and  Monaghan  came  in  to  breakfast,  1  told 

them  what  a  strange  visitor  I  had  had ;  and  Moodie  laughed 

at  my  vain  attempt  to  induce  him  to  talk. 

"He  is  a  strange  being,"  I  said ;« 1  must  find  out  who  and 

what  he  is."  ,  i.    i.  a 

In  the  afternoon  an  old  soldier,  called  Layton,  who  had 
wrved  during  tiie  American  war,  and  got  a  grant  of  land 
•bout  a  mile  in  tiie  rear  of  our  location,  came  to  to  trade  for 
•  cow.    Now,  tills  Layton  was  a  perfect  ruffian ;  a  man  whom 
no  one  liked,  and  whom  aU  feared.    He  was  a  deep  drinker, 
a  great  swearer,  in  diort,  a  perfect  reprobate ;  who  never  cut 
tivated  Ms  land,  but  went  jobbing  about  from  fiurm  to  fcnn, 
trading  horses  and  cattle,  and  dieating  in  a  pettifogging  way. 
Unde  Joe  had  employed  him  to  sell  Moodie  a  young  hdfer, 
tnd  hehadbiDughther  overibr  him  to  look  at  When  became 
In  to  be  p«ad,  1  described  tiie  stranger  of  tiie  momiiq;;  and  as 
I  knew  tiiat  he  was  famUiar  with  e/ery  one  in  tiie  neighbour, 
bood,  I  asked  if  he  knew  hun. 


143 


KOUOHim  IT  IN  THE  BUSB. 


'k 


«  N)  one  Aould  know  Mm  better  thu  myself,"   ae  said; 

« 'tis  old  Brian  B ,  the  atill-bunter,  and  a  near  neighbour 

ofyour'n.    A  soar,  morose,  queer  chap  be  la,  and  as  mad  as 
a  March  hare!    He's  ftom  Lancashire,  fa  England,  and  came 
to  this  country  some  twenty  years  ago,  with  his  wife,  who 
was  a  pretty  young  lass  fa  those  days,  and  sUm  enough  then, 
though  she's  so  awftl  fleshy  now.    He  had  lots  of  m<mey, 
too,  and  he  bought  four  hundred  acres  of  land,  just  at  the  eof  • 
aer'  of  the  concession  Une,  where  H  meets  the  mafa  road. 
And  exeellent  land  it  is;  and  a  better  former,  while  he  stuck 
to  his  busfaess,  ncTer  went  fato  the  bush,  for  it  was  all  bush 
here  then.    He  was  a  dashtog,  handsodie  fellow,  too,  and  did 
not  hoard  the  money  either;  he  loved  his  pipe  and  his  pot 
too  weU ;  and  at  last  he  left  off  fkrming,  and  gave  Wmself  to 
them  altogether.    Many  a  jofly  booie  he  and  I  hare  had,  I 
can  teU  you.    Brian  was  an  awftd  passionate  man,  and,  when 
«he  liquor  was  in,  and  the  wit  was  out,  as  savage  and  as  quar- 
relsomeasabear.     At  sudi  times  there  was  no  one  but  Ned 
LaytoD  dared  go  near  him.    We  once  had  a  pitched  battle, 
ui  which  I  was  conqueror ;  and  ever  arter  he  yielded  a  sort 
of  sulky  obedience  to  all  I  said  to  him.    Arter  befag  on  the 
ipree  for  a  week  or  two,  he  would  take  fits  of  remorse,  and 
Ktum  home  to  his  wife;  would  fiU  down  at  hwr  kne», 
and  ask  her  forgiveness,  and  cry  like  a  cWld.     At  other 
times  he  wotald  hide  himaelf  up  fa  the  woods,  and  steal 
home  at  night,  and  get  Trhat  he  wanted  out  of  the  pantry, 
without  speakfag  a  word  to  any  one.    He  went  on  with 
these  pranks  for  some  years,  till  he  took  a  fit  of  the  blue 

devils.  ^        .  _         ,     .i 

«« Come  away,  Ned,  to  the lAe,  witli  me,  said 

ha*  •!  «m  weary  rfmy  life,  and  I  want  a  change.' 

« •Shall  we  take  the  fishin^tocklel'  says  L    "Ihe  black 

l„«i  ««  fa  prime  season,  and  F wiU  lend  ua  the  old 


l^^^^^il 


"^^3^» -'^'■^■'  f  'H'f*-«r*9*.-r- 


M« 


tnum 


7SB. 

amy  self;   oesaid; 
I  •  nesr  neighbour 
te  is,  and  M  mad  M 
Engjland,  and  came 
vith  bki  wife,  who 
d  dfan  enou^  then, 
had  lota  of  money, 
land,  just  at  the  eor- 
lets  ^  main  road, 
rmer,  while  he  stuck 
1,  for  it  was  all  bush 
fellow,  too,  and  did 
s  pipe  and  his  pot 
and  gave  himself  to 
i  and  I  have  had,  I 
nate  man,  and,  when 
i  savage  and  as  quar- 
was  no  one  but  Ned 
ad  a  pit<4ied  battle, 
wr  he  yielded  •  8<»t 

Arter  b4»ng  on  the 
fita  of  remorse,  and 
down  at  her  kneis, 

a  cyid.  At  other 
he  woods,  and  steal 
ed  out  of  the  pantry, 
.  He  went  on  with 
wk  a  fit  of  the  blue 

-lake,  with  m*,'  said 
\  a  change.' 
'  says  L    'The  black 
wUl  lend  iw  the  dd 


BRIAy,  THE  STILZ-HUNTSB. 


H8 

WeTl 


oanoe.    He's  got  some  capital  rum  up  from  Kingston. 
fid?  all  day,  and  have  a  spree  at  night.' 

" '  It's  not  to  fish  I'm  going,'  says  he. 
*  •♦  *  To  shoot,  then  ?    I've  bought  Rockwood's  new  rifle.' 

" '  It's  neither  to  fish  nor  to  shoot,  Ned :  it's  a  new  game 
Pm  going  to  try ;  so  come  along.' 

**  Well,  to  Uie lake  we  went.    The  day  was  very 

hot,  and  our  path  lay  through  the  woods,  and  over  those 
scorching  plains,  for  eight  long  mUes.  I  thought  I  should  have 
dropped  by  the  way;  but  during  our 'long  walk  my  com- 
panion never  opened  his  lips.  He  strode  on  before  me,  at  a 
half  run,  never  once  turning  his  head. 

"' Hie  man  must  be  the  devil !' says  I, ' and  accustomed  to 
a  warmer  place,  or  he  must  feel  this.  Hollo,  Brian !  Stop 
there !    Do  you  mean  to  kill  me  V 

"'Take  it  easy,'  says  he;  'you'll  see  another  day  artei 
this — I've  business  on  hand,  and  cannot  wait' 

"  Well,  on  we  went,  at  the  same  awful  rate,  and  it  wo* 
mid-day  when  we  got  to  the  little  tavern  on  the  lake  shore, 

kept  by  one  F ,  who  had  a  boat  for  the  convenience  of 

strangers  who  came  to  visit  the  place.  Here  we  got  our  din- 
ner, and  a  glass  of  rum  to  wash  it  down.  But  Brian  was 
moody,  and  to  all  my  jokes  he  only  returned  a  sort  of 

grunt;  and  while  I  was  talking  with  F ^  he  steps  out,  wd 

a  few  minutes  arter  we  saw  him  crosnng  the  lake  in  the  old 
oanoe. 

« ♦  What's  the  matter  with  Brian  V  says  F ;  '  all  does 

not  seem  right  with  him,  Ned.  You  had  better  take  the  boat, 
and  look  arter  him.' 

"  *  Pooh !'  says  I;  '  he's  often  so,  and  grows  so  glum  now* 
»days  that  I  will  cut  his  acquaintance  altogether  if  he  doe* 
not  improve.' 

" '  He  drinks  awfhl  hard,'  says  F ;  •  may  be  he's  got 


t  ,'^-^:  f  "H'fi-ffif^  *.--'- 


'* 


4* 


ROUOniNQ  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


There  is  no  telling  what  he 


144 

a  fit  of  the  delirium-tremulous. 
may  be  up  to  at  this  minute.' 

"My  mind  misgave  me  too,  so  I  e'en  takes  the  oars,  and 
pushes  out,  right  upon  Brian's  track ;  and,  by  the  Lord  Harry! 
if  I  did  not  find  him,  upon  my  landing  upon  the  oppo«te 
Bhore,  lying  wallowing  in  his  blood,  with  his  ttooat  cut  Is 
that  you,  Brianr  says  I,  giving  him  a  kick  with  my  foot,  to 
see  if  he  was  alive  or  dead.    '  What  upon  earth  tempted  you 

to  pky  me  and  F such  a  dirty,  mean  tnck,  as  to  go  and 

«tick  Jourself  like  a  pig,  bringing  such  •^is^'^*  "?«"*! 
housell-and  you  so  far  from  home  and  those  who  should 

"""^l^wi  so  mad  with  him,  that  (saving  your  preseuce, 
Warn)  I  swore  awfiilly,  and  called  him  -^'^^^^'^^''^ 
ondacent  to  repeat  here;  but  he  only  answered  with  groans 
a^dThorridgrgling  in  his  throat.  'It's  cholung  y^u  «ne 
said  i ;  ■  but  you  sha'n't  have  your  own  way,  and  d-e  so  a^dy 
either,  if  I  can  punish  you  by  keeping  you  alnre.  So  I  mst 
tumei  him  upon  his  stomach,  with  his  head  .^o--^^  ^^^ 
bank;  but  he  stUl  kept  choking  and  growmg  black  m  the 

^ilyton  then  detailed  some  particulars  of  his  surgi<«l  prao- 
tice  which  it  is  not  necessary  to  repeat     He  continued, 

"I  bound  up  his  throat  with  my  handkerchief;  and  took 
hinx  neck  and  heels,  and  threw  him  into  the  bottom  of  Ae 
boat    Presently  he  came  to  himself  a  Uttle,«id  sat  up  in  Ae 
boat-  and-would  you  believe  it?-made  several  attempts 
^^row  himself  into  the  wator.    'This  will  not  do,'  says  I; 
.you've  done  mischief  enough  already  by  cuttmg  your  wea- 
Id!  Ifyoudaretotrythatagain,IwillkillyouwithUieoar^ 
,  held  it  up  to  threaten  him ;  he  was  scared,  a^  lay  down^^ 
quiet  a»  a  lamb.     I  put  my  foot  upon  his  breast.      Lie  st.1^ 
now!  or  you'll  cateh  it'    He  looked  piteously  at  me,  he 


'^;. 


lo  telling  what  he 

kes  the  oars,  and 
the  Lord  Harry! 
ipon  the  opposite 
is  throat  cut  *  Is 
:  with  my  foot,  to 
earth  tempted  you 
tricl(,  as  to  go  and 
discredit  upon  the 
those  who  should 

ng  your  presence, 
^ires  that  would  be 
wered  with  groans 
choking  you  are,' 
Ly,  and  d<e  so  easily 
1  alive.'  So  I  »ust 
ad  down  the  steep 
owing  black  in  the 

of  his  surgical  prao- 
He  continued, 
tdkerdiief;  and  took 
>  the  bottom  of  the 
:le,  and  sat  up  in  the 
de  several  attempts 
(rill  not  do,'  says  I; 
y  cutting  yoiu*  wea> 
dll  you  with  the  oar.' 
red,  and  lay  down  as 
s  breast.  *  Lie  still, 
iteously  at  me;  he 


BRUy,   THE  STlLlrHUNTEB. 


14S 


flould  not  speak,  but  his  eyes  seemed  to  say,  '  Hare  pity 
upon  me,  Ned ;  don't  kill  me.' 

"  Yes,  ma'am ;  this  man,  who  had  just  cut  his  throat,  and 
twice  arter  that  tried  to  drown  himself,  was  afraid  that  I 
should  knock  him  on  the  head  and  kill  him.    Ha!  h«!  I 

never  shall  forget  the  work  that  F and  I  had  with  him 

•rter  I  got  him  up  to  the  house.' 

"  The  doctor  came,  and  sewed  up  his  throat ;  and  his  wife 
i'poor  crittur! — came  to  nurse  him.  Bad  as  he  was,  she 
wasi mortal  fond  of  him!  He  lay  there,  rick  and  unable  to 
leave  his  bed,  for  three  months,  and  did  nothing  but  pray  to 
God  to  forgive  him,  for  he  thought  the  devQ  would  surely 
have  him  for  cutting  his  own  throat ;  and  when  he  got  about 
again,  which  is  now  twelve  years  ago,  he  left  off  drinking  en> 
tirely,  and  wanders  about  the  woods  with  his  dogs,  hunting. 
He  seldom  speaks  to  any  one,  and  his  wife's  brother  carries 
on  the  farm  for  the  family.  He  is  so  shy  of  strangers  that 
'tis  a  wonder  he  came  in  here.  Hie  old  wives  are  afhud  of 
him ;  but  you  need  not  heed  him — ^his  troubles  are  to  lum* 
wAt,  he  harms  no  (me." 

Layton  departed,  and  left  me  brooding  over  the  sad  tale 
which  he  had  told  in  suoh>n  absurd  and  jesting  roanneiv  It 
was  evident  from  the  account  ne  had  given  of  Brian's  attempt 
•t  suidde,  that  the  hapless  hunter  was  not  wholly  answerabk 
for  lus  conduct — that  he  was  a  harmless  maniac 

The  next  morning,  at  the  very  same  hour,  Brian  agidn 
made  his  appearance ;  but  instead  of  the  rifle  across  his  shoul- 
der, a  large  stone  jar  occupied  the  place,  suspended  by  a  stout 
leather  thong.  Without  saying  a  word,  but  with  a  truly  b^' 
iievolent  smile,  that  flitted  riowly  over  his  stem  features,  and 
lifted  them  up,  like  a  sunbeam  breaking  from  beneath  a 
stormy  doud,  he  advanced  to  the  table,  and  unslinging  the 
jar,  set  it  down  bef<H«  me,  and  in  a  low  and  grufi|  but  by  no 

7 


;'« 


_,j<iiSJ 


% 


146 


BOUOHINQ  IT  IN  THV  BUStl. 


mevu  an  unfriendly  voice,  said,  "Milk,  for  the  duld,"  and 

vanished.  ,  .      •, 

"  IIow  good  It  was  of  him!  How  kind !"  I  exclaimed,  a* 
1  poured  the  precious  gift  of  four  quarts  of  pure  new  milk  out 
into  a  deep  pan.  I  had  not  asked  him— had  never  said  that 
the  poor  weanling  wanted  milk.  It  was  the  courtesy  of  a 
gentleman— of  a  man  of  benevolence  and  refinement. 

For  weeks  did  my  strange,  silent  friend  steal  in,  take  up 
the  empty  jar,  and  supply  its  phioe  with  another  replenished 
with  mUk.  The  baby  knew  his  step,  and  would  hold  out  her 
handa  to  him  and  cry  "  Milk !"  and  Brian  would  stoop  down 
and  kiss  her,  and  lus  two  great  dogs  lick  her  face. 

"  Have  you  any  children,  Mr.  B         1"  * 

"  Yes,  five ;  but  none  like  this." 

"My  Uttle  girl  is  greatly  indebted  to  you  for  your  kind 


ness. 


n 


"She's  welcome,  or  she  would  not  get  it  You  are  stran. 
gers ;  but  I  like  you  alL  You  look  kind,  and  I  would  like  to 
know  more  about  you." 

Moodie  shook  hands  with  the  old  hunter,  and  assured  him 
that  we  should  always  be  glad  to  see  him.  After  this  invita- 
tion,  Brian  became  a  frequent  guest.^  He  would  sit  and  listen 
with  delight  to  Moodie  while  he  described  to  him  elephant- 
hunting  at  the  Cape ;  grasping  La  rifle  in  a  determined  man- 
ner,  and  whistling  an  encouraging  air  to  his  dogs.  I  asked 
him  one  evening  what  made  him  so  fond  of  hunting. 

"  Tls  the  excitement,"  he  said ;  "  it  drowns  thought,  and  I 
love  to  be  alone.  I  am  sorry  for  the  creatures,  too,  for  they 
are  free  and  happy ;  yet  I  am  led  by  an  instinct  I  cannot  re- 
gtrain  to  kill  them.  Sometimes  the  sight  of  their  dying 
agonies  recalls  painful  feelings;  and  then  I  lay  aside  the  gun, 
and  do  not  hunt  for  days.  But  'tis  fine  to  be  alone  with  God 
in  the  great  woods-to  wateh  the  sunbeams  stealing  througl 


HUmTiWWIBl 


n. 

)r  the  duld,*'  and 

!'*  I  exclaimed,  a» 
pure  new  milk  out 
od  never  said  that 
the  courtesy  of  a 
eiinement. 
d  steal  in,  take  up 
notfaer  replenished 
rould  hold  out  her 
would  stoop  down 
sr  face. 


you  for  your  kind 

it    You  are  stran. 
and  I  would  like  to 

sr,  and  assured  him 
After  this  invita- 
would  sit  and  listen 
d  to  him  elephant- 
a  determined  man- 
his  dogs.  I  asked 
of  hunting, 
owns  thought,  and  I 
atures,  too,  for  they 
instinct  I  cannot  re- 
ight  of  their  dying 
I  lay  aside  the  gun, 
)  be  alone  with  God 
ma  stealing  througk 


BRIAN,  THK  STILI^MVXTKR. 


147 


the  thick  branches,  the  blue  sky  breaking  in  upon  you  ii 
patches,  and  to  know  that  all  is  bright  and  shiny  above  you, 
in  spite  of  the  gloom  that  surrounds  you," 

After  a  long  pause,  he  continued,  with  much  solemn  feeling 
in  hii  look  and  tone, 

« I  lived  a  life  of  folly  for  years,  for  I  was  respectably  bom 
and  educated,  and  had  seen  something  of  the  world,  perhaps 
more  tlian  was  good,  before  I  left  home  for  the  woods ;  and 
from  the  teaching  I  had  received  from  kmd  relatives  and 
parents  I  should  have  known  how  to  have  conducted  myself 
better.  But,  madam,  if  we  associate  long  with  the  depraved 
and  ignorant,  we  learn  to  become  even  worse  than  they  are. 
I  felt  deeply  my  degradation— felt  that  I  had  become  the 
slave  to  low  vice ;  and  in  order  to  emancipate  myself  from 
the  hateful  tyranny  of  evil  passions,  I  did  a  very  rash  and 
foolish  thing.  I  need  not  mention  the  manner  in  which  I 
transgressed  God's  holy  laws ;  all  the  neighbours  know  it, 
and  mtist  have  told  you  long  ago.  I  could  have  borne  re. 
proof,  but  they  turned  my  sorrow  into  indecent  jests,  and, 
unable  to  bear  their  coarse  ridicule,  I  made  companions  of 
my  dogs  and  g«m,  and  went  forth  into  the  wUdemess,  Hunt 
ing  became  a  habit  1  could  no  longer  live  without  it,  and  it 
supplies  the  stimulant  which  I  lost  when  I  renounced  the 
cursed  whiskey  bottle. 

"  I  remember  the  first  hunting  excursion  I  took  alone  in 
tbe  forest  How  sad  and  gloomy  I  felt !  I  thought  that  there 
was  no  creature  in  the  world  so  miserable  as  myself  I  was 
tired  and  hungry,  and  I  sat  down  upon  a  fallen  tree  to  rest. 
AH  was  still  as  death  around  me,  and  I  was  fast  sinking  to 
sleep,  when  my  attention  was  aroused  by  a  long,  wild  cry.  My 
dog,  for  I  had  not  Cnance  then,  and  he's  no  hunter,  pricked  up 
Us  ears,  but  instead  of  answering  with  a  bark  of  defiance,  he 
douched  down,  trembling,  at  my  feet    'What  does  this 


% 


% 

:1 


148 


ROUOIIIKO  IT  IS  THE  BUSO. 


it. 


■r.. 


II 
I 


mean  f  I  cried,  and  I  cocked  my  rifle  and  sprang  upon  tha 
log.  The  sound  came  nearer  upon  the  wind.  It  was  like  the 
deep  baying  of  a  pack  of  hounds  in  full  cry.  Presently  a 
noble  deer  rushed  past  me,  and  fllst  upon  his  trail — I  see 
them  now,  like  so  many  black  devils — swept  by  a  pack  of  ten 
or  fifteen  large,  fierce  wolves,  with  fiery  eyes  and  bristling 
hair,  and  paws  that  seemed  hardly  to  touch  the  ground  in 
their  eager  haste.  I  thought  not  of  danger,  for,  with  their 
prey  in  view,  I  was  safe ;  but  I  felt  every  nerve  within  me 
tremble  for  the  fate  of  the  poor  deer.  The  wolves  gained 
upon  him  at  every  bound.  A  dose  thicket  intercepted  his 
path,  and,  rendered  desperate,  he  turned  at  bay.  His  nostrils 
were  dilated,  and  his  eyes  seemed  to  send  forth  long  streams 
of  light  It  was  wonderful  to  witness  the  courage  of  the 
beast.  How  bravely  he  repelled  the  attacks  of  his  deadly 
enemies,  how  gallantly  he  tossed  them  to  the  right  and  left, 
and  spumed  them  from  beneath  his  hoofi ;  yet  all  his  strug- 
gles were  useless,  and  he  was  quickly  overcome  and  torn  to 
pieces  by  his  ravenous  foes.  At  that  moment  he  seemed 
more  unfortunate  oven  than  myself,  for  I  could  not  see  in 
what  manner  he  had  deserved  his  fkte.  All  his  speed  and 
energy,  his  courage  and  fortitude,  had  been  exerted  in  vain. 
I  had  tried  to  destroy  myself;  but  he,  with  every  effi>rt 
rigorously  made  for  self-preservation,  was  doomed  to  meet 
the  &te  he  dreaded !    Is  Gk)d  just  to  his  creatures  T 

With  thia  sentence  on  his  lips,  he  started  abruptly  from  hit 
■eat  and  left  the  house. 

One  day  he  found  me  punting  some  wild  flowers,  and  was 
greatly  interested  in  watching  the  progress  I  made  in  the 
group.  Late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  following  day  he  brought 
me  a  large  bunch  of  splendid  spring  flowers.  \ 

"  Draw  these,"  said  he ;  "  I  have  been  all  the  way  to  the 
~ lake  plains  to  find  them  for  you." 


BRIAN,  THE  STlLlrnVtrrSR. 


140 


■pnuigupon  Um 
It  was  like  the 
cry.     Pre»ently  • 
his  trail — 1  see 
by  a  pacit  of  ton 
9ye8  and  bristling 
joh  the  ground  in 
;er,  for,  with  their 
nerve  within  me 
The  wolves  gained 
(et  mteroopted  his 
bay.    His  nostrils 
forth  long  streams 
he  courage  of  the 
acks  of  his  deadly 
\  the  right  and  left, 
;  yet  idl  his  strug- 
sroome  and  torn  to 
moment  he  seemed 
I  oould  not  see  in 
All  his  speed  and 
een  exerted  in  vain. 
B,  with  every  effort 
as  doomed  to  meet 
oreatures?" 
ed  abruptly  from  his 

vQd  flowers,  and  was 
ress  I  made  in  the 
iwing  day  he  brought 
Brs.  \     •■ 
Ml  all  the  way  to  tha 


Little  Ratio,  grasping  them  one  by  one,  with  infantile  joy, 
kissed  every  lovely  blossom. 

** These  arc  God's  pictures,"  said  the  hunter,  "and  the 
child,  who  is  all  nature,  understands  them  in  a  minute.  Is  H 
not  strange  that  these  beautifbl  things  are  hid  away  in  the 
wilderness,  where  no  eyes  but  the  birds  of  the  air,  and  the 
wild  beasts  of  the  wood,  and  the  insects  that  live  upon  them, 
ever  see  them  t  Does  God  provide,  for  the  pleasure  of  such 
creatures,  these  flowers?  Is  His  benevolence  gratified  by  th« 
admiration  of  animals  whom  we  have  been  taught  to  consider 
as  having  neither  thought  nor  reflection  1  When  I  am  alone 
in  the  .orest,  these  thoughts  puzzle  me." 

Knowing  that  to  argue  with  Brian  was  only  to  call  into 
action  the  slumbering  nres  of  his  fatal  malady,  I  turned  the 
conversation  by  asking  him  why  he  called  his  favourite  dog 
Chancel 

"  I  found  him,"  he  said,  "  forty  miles  back  in  the  bush.  He 
was  a  mere  skeleton.  At  first,  I  took  him  for  a  wolf,  but  the 
shape  of  his  head  undeceived  me.  I  opened  my  wallet,  and 
called  him  to  me.  He  came  slowly,  stopping  and  wagging 
his  tail  at  every  step,  and  looking  me  wistAilly  in  the  face. 
I  offered  him  a  bit  of  dried  venison,  and  he  soon  became 
fKendly,  and  followed  me  home,  and  has  never  left  me  since. 
I  called  him  Chance,  after  the  manner  I  happened  with  him ; 
and  I  would  not  part  with  him  for  twenty  dollars." 

Alas,  for  pooi*  Chance !  he  had,  unknown  to  his  master, 
contracted  a  pri\ate  liking  for  ft^sh  mutton,  and  one  night  he 

killed  no  less  than  eight  sheep  that  belonged  to  Mr.  D , 

on  the  front  road ;  the  culprit,  who  had  been  long  suspected, 
was  caught  in  the  very  act,  and  this  misekanee  cost  him  his 
life.  Brian  was  sad  and  gloomy  for  many  weeks  after  his 
&vourite'8  death. 


mmm 


fe»» 


BOUOHINQ  IT  IN  THE  BOSff. 


"  I  would  have  restored  the  slieep  fourfold,"  he  said, "  if  he 
would  but  have  spared  the  life  of  my  dog." 

My  recollections  of  Brian  seem  more  particularly  to  ooi> 
oentrate  in  the  adventures  of  one  night,  when  I  happened  to 
bo  left  alone,  for  the  first  time  since  my  arrival  in  Canada. 
I  cannot  now  imagine  how  I  could  have  been  such  a  fbol  as  to 
give  way  for  four-and-twenty  hours  to  such  childish  fears;  but 
so  it  was,  and  I  will  not  disguise  my  weakness  from  my  indul- 
gent reader.  Moodie  had  bought  a  very  fine  cow  of  a  bladt 
man,  named  MoUinem*,  Tor  which  he  was  to  give  twenty 
seven  dollars.  The  man  lived  twelve  mOes  back  in  the  woods ; 
and  one  fine,  frosty  spring  day — (don't  smile  at  the  \ena 
frosty,  thus  connected  with  the  genial  season  of  the  year ;  the 
term  is  perfectly  correct  when  applied  to  the  Canadian  spring, 
which,  until  the  middle  of  May,  is  the  most  dismal  season  of 
the  year) — ^he  and  John  Monaghan  took  a  rope,  and  the  dog, 
and  sallied  forth  to  fetch  the  cow  home.  Moodie  said  that 
they  should  be  back  by  six  o'dook  in  the  evening,  and 
charged  me  to  have  something  cooked  for  supper  when  they 
returned,  as  he  doubted  not  their  long  walk  in  the  sharp  ur 
would  give  them  a  good  appetite.    This  was  during  the  time 

that  I  was  without  a  servant,  and  living  in  old  Mrs. 's 

shanty. 

The  day  was  so  bright  and  clear,  and  Katie  was  so  full  of 
frolic  and  play,  rolling  upon  the  floor,  or  toddling  from  chair 
to  chair,  that  the  day  passed  on  without  my  feeling  remarkably 
lonely.  At  length  die  evening  dreW  nigh,  and  I  began  to 
expect  my  husband's  return,  and  to  think  of  the  8upp(u>  that  I 
was  to  prepare  for  his  recepticm.  The  red  heifw  that  we  had 
bought  of  Layton,  came  lowing  to  the  door  to  be  milked ;  but 
I  did  not  know  how  to  milk  in  those  days,  and,  besides  this, 
1  was  terribly  aftaid  of  cattle.  Yet,  as  I  kneW  Uiat  milk 
would  be  required  fbr  the  tea,  I  ran  across  the  meadow  to 


1," he  said, "if  he 

rtiottlarly  to  coi> 
n  I  happened  to 
rival  in  Canada, 
such  a  fool  as  to 
lildish  fears ;  but 
»  from  my  indul- 
le  oow  of  a  bladt 
to  give  twenty 
ack  in  the  woods; 
nile  at  the  tena 
of  the  year ;  the 
I  Canadian  spring, 
dismal  season  of 
tpe,  and  the  dog, 
Moodie  said  that 
the  evening,  and 
Hipper  when  they 
k  in  the  sharp  air 
B  during  the  time 
old  Mrs. 's 

tie  was  so  full  of 
Idling  from  chair 
eling  remarkably 
,  and  I  began  to 
the  suppcn*  that  I 
leifw  that  we  had 
0  be  milked;  but 
and,  besides  this, 
kneir  that  milk 
B  the  meadow  to 


m^« 


!M 


fiSUN:,  TES  STUIrODNTia. 


va. 


Vxs.  Joe,  and  begged  diat  one  of  her  girls  would  be  so  kind 
u  to  milk  for  me.  My  request  was  greeted  with  a  rude  borrt 
of  lai^ter  fiom  the  whole  set 

"tf  you  can't  miU^"  sud  Mrs.  Joe,  "it's  hig^  time  yoa 
riiould  leam.    My  girls  are  above  being  helps." 

"I  would  not  ask  you  but  as  a  great  &vour;  I  am  aftaid 
of  cows." 

"j^raid^eom/  Lord  bless  the  woman!  Afiirmer's 
wife,  and  afivid  of  cows !" 

Here  folk>wed  another  laugh  at  my  expense ;  and,  indig> 
nant  at  the  reftisal  of  my  first  and  last  request,  when  they  had 
all  borrowed  so  much  from  me^  I  shut  the  inhospitable  door, 
and  returned  home. 

After  many  ineffectual  attempts,  I  succeeded  at  last,  and 
bore  my  half-pail  of  milk  in  triumj^  to  the  house.  Yes!  I 
felt  prouder  of  that  milk  than  many  an  author  of  the  best 
thing  he  ever  wrote,  whether  in  verse  or  prose;  and  it  was 
doubly  sweet  ^rhen  I  considered  that  I  had  procured  it  without 
bdng  under  tny  obligation  to  my  ill-natared  neighbours.  I 
had  learned  a  useful  lesson  of  independraoe,  to  which,  in  after 
years,  I  had  often  again  to  ref^. 

I  fed  litde  Katie  and  put  her  to  bed,  made  the  hot  cakes 
for  tea,  IxHled  the  potatoes,  and  hud  the  ham,  cut  in  nioe 
slices,  in  the  pui,  ready  to  cook  the  moment  I  saw  the  men 
enter  the  m^ow,  and  arranged  the  little  room  with  sorupu. 
Icius  care  and  neatness.  A  glorious  fire  was  blanng  on  the 
hearth,  and  every  thing  was  ready  for  their  supper;  and  I 
began  to  look  out  anxiously  for  their  arrival. 

The  night  had  dosed  in  cold  aud  foggy,  and  I  could  no 
longer  distanguish  any  object  at  more  than  a  few  yardd  from 
the  door.  Bringing  in  as  r.iuoh  wood  as  I  thouj^t  would  last 
me  for  several  hours,  I  closed  the  door ;  and  for  the  first  time 
in  my  life  I  found  myself  at  night  in  a  house  entirely  alona 


153 


BouoBwa  rr  is  tse  ausff. 


m. 


llien  I  began  to  ask  myself  a  thousaud  torturing  qiiestions  at 
to  the  reason  of  their  unusual  absence.  Had  they  lost  theii 
way  in  the  woods  1  Could  they  have  fallen  in  with  wolves 
(one  of  my  early  bugbears)  1  Could  any  fttal  accident  have 
befidlen  them  1  I  started  up,  opened  the  door,  held  my 
breath,  and  listened.  The  little  brook  lifted  up  its  voice  iq 
loud,  hoarse  wailing,  or  mocked,  in  its  babbling  to  the  stones, 
tlie  sound  of  human  voices.  As  it  became  later,  my  fears  in- 
creased in  proportion.  I  grew  too  superstitious  and  nervous 
to  keep  the  door  open.  I  not  only  closed  it,  but  dragged  a 
heavy  box  in  front,  for  bolt  there  was  none.  Several  ill* 
looking  men  had,  during  the  day,  asked  their  way  to  Toronto. 
I  felt  alarmed  lest  such  rude  wayfarers  should  come  to-night 
and  demand  a  lodging,  and  find  me  alone  and  unprotected. 
Once  I  thou^t  of  running  across  to  Mrs.  Joe,  and  asking  her 
to  let  one  of  the  girls  stay  with  me  until  Moodie  returned ; 
but  the  way  in  which  I  had  been  repulsed  in  the  evening  pre- 
vented me  from  making  a  second  appeal  to  their  charity. 

Hour  after  hour  wore  away,  and  the  crowing  of  the  cocks 
proclaimed  midnight,  and  yet  they  came  not.  I  had  burned 
out  all  my  wood,  and  I  dared  not  open  the  door  to  fetch  in 
moK.  He  candle  was  expiring  in  the  socket,  and  I  had  not 
courage  to  go  up  into  the  loft  and  procure  another  before  it 
went  finally  out  Cold,  heart-weary,  and  fhint,  I  sat  and  cried. 
Every  now  and  then  the  fiiriovs  barking  of  the  dogs  at  the 
nei^bouring  farms,  and  the  loud  cackling^  of  the  geese  upon 
our  own,  made  me  hope  that  they  were  coming ;  and  then  I 
listened  till  the  beatuig  of  my  own  heart  excluded  all  other 
sounds.  Oh,  that  unwearied  brook!  how  it  sobbed  and 
moaned  like  a  fretful  child ; — what  unreal  terrors  and  fanciful 
illusions  my  t30  active  mind  conjured  up,  whilst  listening  to 
its  mysterious  tones ! 
Juet  af>  the  moon  rose,  the  howling  of  a  pack  of  wolves^  from 


ing  questions  at 
they  lost  theu 
in  with  wolves 
accident  have 
door,  held  my 
up  its  Toioe  iq 
to  the  stones, 
Iter,  my  fears  in. 
ous  and  nervous 
fc,  but  dragged  a 
ne.    Seven^  ill. 
way  to  Toronto, 
d  come  to-night 
and  unprotected, 
e,  and  asking  her 
ioodie  returned; 
I  the  evening  pre- 
their  charity, 
wing  of  the  cocks 
>t.     I  had  burned 
J  door  to  fetch  in 
tet,  and  I  had  not 
another  before  it 
It,  I  sat  and  cried. 
r  the  dogs  at  the 
f  tiie  geese  upon 
ining;  and  then  I 
xcludcd  all  other 
r  it  sobbed  and 
rrors  and  fanciful 
hilst  listening  (o 


k  <7  wolves^  from 


'^fl^iEf; 


SS/AS;  THE  SiairHUNTEB. 


HA 


the  great  swamp  in  our  rear,  filled  the  whole  air.  Their  yells 
were  answered  by  the  barking  of  all  the  dogs  in  the  vicinity, 
and  the  geese,  imwilling  to  be  behindhand  in  Uie  general  con 
Aision,  set  up  the  most  difloordant  screan;8.  I  had  often  heard, 
and  even  been  amused,  during  the  winter,  particularly  on  thaw 
nights,  with  hearing  the  howls  of  these  formidable  wild  beasts ; 
but  I  had  never  before  heard  them  alone,  and  when  one  dear 
to  me  was  abroad  amid  their  haunts.  They  were  directly  in 
the  track  that  Moodie  and  Monaghan  must  have  taken ;  and  I 
now  made  no  doubt  that  they  had  been  attacked  and  killed  on 
their  return  through  the  woods  with  the  cow,  and  I  wept  and 
sobbed  until  the  cold  gray  dawn  peered  in  upon  me  through 
the  small  dim  windows.  I  have  passed  many  a  long  cheerless 
night,  when  my  dear  husband  was  away  from  me  during  the 
rebellion,  and  I  was  left  in  my  forest  home  with  five  littl< 
children,  and  only  an  old  Irish  woman  to  draw  and  cut  wood 
fur  my  fire,  and  attend  to  the  wants  of  the  fiunily,  but  that 
was  the  saddest  and  longest  night  I  ever  remember. 

Just  as  the  day  broke,  my  friends,  the  wolves,  set  up  a 
parting  benediction,  so  loud,  and  wild,  and  near  to  the  bouse, 
that  I  was  afraid  lest  they  should  break  through  the  firail  win- 
dows, or  come  down  the  low,  wide  chimney,  and  rob  me  of 
my  diOd.  But  their  detestable  howls  died  away  iu  the  AW 
tance,  and  the  bright  sun  rose  up  and  dispersed  tlie  wild 
horrors  of  the  night,  and  I  looked  once  more  timidly  around 
me.  Hie  sight  of  the  table  spread,  and  the  uneaten  supper, 
renewed  my  grief,  for  I  oouM  not  .divest  myself  of  the  idea 
that  Moodie  was  dead.  I  opened  the  door,  and  stepped  forth 
into  the  pure  air  of  the  early  day.  A  solemn  and  ^beautifld 
repose  still  hung  like  a  veil  over  the  face  of  Nature.  Hm 
mists  of  night  still  rested  upon  the  majestic  woods,  and  not  a 
sound  but  the  flowing  of  the  waters  went  up  in  the  vast  still- 

hess.    Hie  earth  had  not  yet  raised  her  matin  hymn  to  the 

7» 


r.-^^-fiftV^-iiS^irt^ivtiiuVf-Af"  5" 


,JWJ^  •.-.^■S-V^'-^'^-:'- 


154 


BOUGHmO  IT  m  THE  BinSH. 


thrtme  of  the  Creator.  Sad  at  heart,  and  weaiy  and  worn  ia 
q>mt,  I  went  doini  to  the  q>ring  and  "vashed  my  face  and 
head,  and  drahk  a  deep  draught  of  its  icy  waters.  On  return, 
h^  to  the  house  I  met,  near  the  door,  old  Brian  the  hunter, 
with  a  large  fox  dangling  across  bis  shoulder,  and  the  d(^ 
following  at  his  heels. 

"  Good  God !  Mrs.  Moodie,  what  is  the  matter  ?  You  are 
early  abroad  this  morning,  and  look  dreadful  Ul.  Is  any  thing 
wrong  at  home  1    Is  the  baby  or  your  husband  sick  ?" 

"  Oh !"  I  cried,  bursting  into  tears,  "  I  fear  he  is  killed  by 
the  wolves," 

The  man  stared  at  me,  as  if  he  doubted  the  evidence  of  his 
senses,  and  well  he  might ;  but  this  one  idea  had  taken  such 
strong  possession  of  my  mind  that  I  could  admit  no  other.  I 
th«i  told  him,  as  well  as  I  could  find  words,  the  cause  of  my 
ahum,  to  which  he  listened  very  kindly  and  patiently. 

"  Set  your  heart  at  rest ;  your  husband  is  safe.  It  is  a 
kng  journey  on  foot  to  Mollineuz,  to  one  unacquainted  with 
a  blazed  path  in  a  bush  road.  They  have  staid  all  night 
at  the  black  man's  shanty,  and  you  will  see  them  back  at 
luxm." 

I  shook  my  head  and  continued  to  weep. 

"  Well,  now,  in  order  to  satisfy  you,  I  will  saddle  my 
mare,  and  ride  over  to  the  nigger's,  and  bring  you  word  at 
fiwt  as  I  can." 

I  thanlicd  him  smcerely  for  his  kmdness,  and  returned,  in 
aomowhat  better  spirits,  to  the  house.  At  ten  o'dook  my 
good  messenger  returned  with  the  glad  tidings  that  all  was 
weU. 

The  day  before,  when  half  the  journey  had  been  acoom. 
plished,  Jolm  Monaghan  let  go  the  rope  by  which  he  led  the 
cow,  and  she  had  broken  away  through  to  the  woods,  and  re- 
turned to  her  old  mastef ;  «pid  when  they  again  reached  Iiii 


i'ii^  i:^-7'^'-f>ii''. 


■""  w  "ifi 


weary  and  worn  ia 
shed  my  face  and 
aters.  On  return. 
Brian  the  hunter, 
ier,  and  the  d<^ 

matter  ?   You  are 
1  ill.    Is  any  thing 
and  sick  V* 
ar  he  is  killed  by 

he  evidence  of  his 
a  had  taken  such 
tdmit  no  other.    I 

the  cause  of  my 

patiently. 
1  is  safe.    It  is  a 
inacquainted  with 
re  staid  all  night 
ee  them  back  at 


will  saddle  my 
ring  you  word  at 

,  and  returned,  in 
i  ten  o'dook  my 
ings  that  all  was 

liad  been  acoom> 
vhich  he  led  the 
le  woods,  and  re* 
igain  reached  Ills 


BBlAJf,   THE  STILL-HUNTER. 


Ifii 


place, night  had  set  in,  and  they  were  obliged  Id  wait  until  the 
return  of  day.  Moodie  laughed  heartily  at  all  my  feara ;  but 
indeed  1  found  them  no  joke. 

Brian's  eldest  son,  a  lad  of  fourteen,  was  not  exactly  an 
Idiot,  but  what,  in  the  old  country,  is  very  expressively  termed 
by  the  poor  people  a  "  natural."  He  could  feed  and  assist 
himself,  had  been  taught  imperfectly  to  read  and  write,  and 
oould  go  to  and  from  the  town  on  errands,  and  carry  a  mes* 
sage  from  one  farm-house  to  another ;  but  he  was  a  strange, 
wayward  creature,  and  evidently  inherited,  in  no  small  de- 
gree, his  Other's  malady. 

During  the  summer  months  he  lived  entirely  in  the  woods, 
near  his  father's  dwelling,  only  returning  to  obtain  food,  which 
was  generally  left  for  him  in  an  outhouse.  In  the  winter,  driven 
home  by  the  severity  of  the  weather,  he  would  sit  for  days 
together  moping  in  the  chimney-comer,  without  taking  the 
least  notice  of  what  was  passing  around  him.  Brian  never 
mentioned  this  boy — who  had  a  strong,  active  figure ;  a  hand- 
some, but  very  inexpressive  face — without  a  deep  sigh ;  and 
I  feel  certain  that  half  his  own  dejection  was  occasioned  by 
the  mental  aberration  of  his  child. 

One  day  he  sent  the  lad  with  a  note  to  oar  house,  to  know 
if  Moodie  would  purchase  the  half  of  an  ox  that  he  was  going 
to  kill.  There  happened  to  stand  in  the  comer  of  the  room 
i>T  open  wood  box,  into  which  several  bushels  of  fine  apples 
hnc\  been  throwvi ;  a".d,  while  Moodie  was  writing  an  answer 
to  the  note,  the  eyes  of  the  idiot  were  fastened,  as  if  by  some 
magnetic  influence,  upon  the  apples.  Knowing  that  Brian  had 
a  very  fine  orchard,  I  JiJ  not  otfor  the  boy  any  of  the  fhiit 
When  the  note  was  finished,  I  handed  it  to  him.  The  lad 
grasped  it  mechanically,  without  removing  his  fixed  gase  fVon 
Ihn  apples. 

"  Give  ttot  to  your  father,  Tim." 


•\  a 


ii'j'fi'iifrii'" 


wwm.1 1 » '.tjiii^jmijiiiyj 


T  "•■  JiJBW^ 


156  nomsaa  it  in  tbs  buse. 

The  boy  answered  not-Ws  ea«,  his  eyes,  Ms  ^1«  "^^ 
we^^ninixated  in  the  applet.  Ten  nunutes  elapsed.bat  h. 
rtood  motionless,  liJie  a  pointer  at  a  dead  set 

«  My  good  boy,  you  can  go." 

He  did  not  stir.  < 

"Is  there  any  thing  you  want r  ft«™  Aa 

« I  want,"  Slid  the  lad,  without  movi.^  h.s  eyes  ft^Ae 
objects  of  Ms  -tensedesire,and  speakingin  a  s^w^^^ 
manner,  wMch  ought  to  have  been  heard  to  be  fully  appred- 
ated,"lwRT,tap.plesr'  ^ 

«Oh  if  thPt's  all,  take  what  you  like, 
m  p^^lion  .ice  obtained,  the  boy  flung  hira«af  «|^ 
Ae  box^with  the  rapacty  of  a  hawk  upon  ite  prey^ 
big  long  poised  in  the  air,  to  fa  it«  certam  am;  Arustog 
hrtonrrthe  nght  and  left,  in  order  t»  secure  the  finest 
sltl  of  1  ^veted  fruit,  scarcely  aUowing  him-lf  time 
nrthe  until  he  had  filled  his  old  straw  hat,  and  all  M 
Lw  with  apples.   To  help  laughing  was  impossible -.while 
Znt^Tm  rf  Bedlam  darted  from  the  house,  and  scam- 
^edJL^  the  field  for  dear  life,  as  if  afraid  that  we  should 

pursue  W™.  t-o\^!'"^^  ^^^^  friend  Brian  was  lefl 

It  was  during  this  wmter  that  our  meuu 
»  fortune  of  th^  hundred  pounds  per  annum ;  but  it  w«f 
L^  for  him  to  return  to  his  native  country   m  order 
:rX^ion  of  the  property.    ™b  he  positivdy  refund 
to  Z-  Mdwhen  we  remonstrated  with  him  on  the  ap^rent 
taWiW  oTthis  resolution,  he  declared  that  he  would  not 
tr^m^-  crossmg  the  Atlantic  twice,  for  twenty  ^mes 
tCt  si     What  strange  inconsistency  was  this,  m  a  b«ng 
*^  Z^  three  timTattempted  to  take  away  that  wh.  A 
\uK  areaded  so  much  to  lose  accidentally ! 

to  ,11  ..y,  of  »  eKoumc  he  w»,.  upon  .1*  .  b««.,«, 


8,  Ms  whole  ioul, 
58  elapsed,  bat  In 


his  eyes  ftom  the 
n  a  slow,  pointed 
J  be  fully  appred- 

long  luroself  upon 
on  its  prey,  after 
Bin  aim;  thrusting 
to  secure  the  finest 
owing  himself  time 
Etw  hat,  and  all  his 
B  impossible;  while 
B  house,  and  scam- 
raid  that  we  should 

lend  Brian  was  left 
annum ;  but  it  was 
e  country,  in  order 
lie  positively  refused 
lira  on  Ae  apparent 
1  that  he  would  not 
ice,  for  twenty  times 
was  this,  in  a  being 
Ice  away  that  wWJi 
I 

nrhich  he  gave  me,  in 
upon  with  a  botanist, 


BRIAN,  TUB  STILL-HUNTER. 


fc>  collect  specimens  of  the  plants  and  flowers  of  Upper 

« It  was  a  fine  spring  day,  some  ten  years  ago,  and  I  waa 
yoldng  my  oxen  to  drag  in  some  oats  I  had  just  sown,  when  a 
Uttle,  fat,  punchy  man,  with  a  broad,  red,  good-natured  fece, 
and  carrying  a  small  blade  leathern  wallet  across  his  shoulder, 
called  to  me  over  the  fence,  and  aslced  me  if  my  name  was 
Brian  B 1    I  said,  *  Yes;  what  of  that  1' 

« « Only  you  are  tfie  man  I  want  to  see.  They  tell  me  that 
you  are  better  aoquamted  witii  tiie  woods  tium  any  person  in 
tiiese  parts;  and  I  wUl  pay  you  any  thing  in  reason  if  you  will 
be  my  guide  for  a  few  days.' 

"'Where  do  you  want  to  goV  said  L 

« « No  where  in  particular,'  says  he.  •  I  want  to  go^  here 
and  there,  in  all  directions,  to  collect  plants  and  flowers.'  ^ 

«  That  is  still-hunting  witii  a  vengeance,  tiiowght  I.  To- 
day  I  must  drag  in  my  oata.    If  to-morrow  will  suit  we  will 

be  ofl".'  ,         ^  .      # 

«'And  your  charge?'  said  he.    « I  like  to  be  certain  of 

that.'  .         . 

"  •  A  dollar  a^ay .    My  time  and  labour  upon  my  farm,  at 

tUs  busy  season,  is  worth  more  tiian  that.' 

"'True,'  said  he.  'Well,  HI  give  you  what  you  ask. 
At  what  time  will  you  be  ready  to  start  1' 

" '  By  daybreak,  if  you  wish  it.' 

"  Away  he  went ;  and  by  daylight  next  morning  he  was  at 
my  doo-,  mounted  upon  a  stout  French  pony.  'What  are 
you  going  to  do  with  that  beast?'  said  I.  ' Horses  are  of  no 
use  on  the  road  that  you  and  1  are  to  travel.  You  had  better 
]«ave  him  in  my  stable.' 

«'l  want  him  to  carry  my  traps  said  he;  «it  may  \f 
some  days  that  we  shall  be  absent.' 

« 1  assured  him  that  he  must  be  his  own  beast  of  burthen, 


tS8 


BouGmm  IT  m  the  Bustt. 


U- 


\% 


and  carry  .his  axe,  and  blanket,  and  wallet  of  food  upon  hii 
own  back.  Tbe  little  body  did  not  much  reli8h  *hi8  arrange 
ment ;  but  as  there  was  no  help  for  it,  he  very  good-naturedly 
oomplied.    Off  we  set,  and  soon  climbed  the  steep  ridge  at 

the  back  of  your  form,  and  got  upon lake  plains.    The 

woods  were  flush  with  flowers;  and  the  litUe  man  graw  into 
such  an  ecstacy,  that  at  every  fresh  specimen  he  uttered  a 
yell  of  joy,  cut  a  caper  in  the  air,  and  flung  himself  dowr 
upon  them,  as  if  he  was  drunk  with  delight  'Oh,  what 
treasures!  what  treasures!'  he  cried.  'I  shall  make  my 
fortune !' 

"  It  is  seldom  I  laugh,"  quoth  Brian,  "  but  I  could  not  help 
laughing  at  this  odd  little  man ;  for  it  was  not  the  beautiful 
blossoms  such  as  you  delight  to  pwnt,  that  drew  forth  these 
exclamations,  but  the  queer  little  plants,  which  he  had  rum- 
maged for  at  the  roots  of  old  trees,  among  the  moss  and  long 
grass.  He  sat  upon  a  decayed  trunk,  which  lay  in  our  path, 
I  do  believe  for  a  long  hour,  making  an  oration  over  some 
grayish  things,  spotted  with  red,  that  grew  upon  it,  which 
looked  more  like  mould  than  plants,  declaring  himself  repaid 
for  all  the  trouble  and  expense  he  had  been  at,  if  it  were  only 
to  obtain  a  sight  of  them.  I  gathered  him  a  beautiful  blossom 
of  the  lady's  slipper;  but  he  pushed  it  back  when  I  presented 
it  to  him,  saying,  'Yes,  yes,  'tfa  very  fine.  I  have  seen  that 
often  before,  but  these  lichens  are  splendid.' 

"  The  man  had  so  little  taste  that  I  thought  him  a  fool,  and 
so  I  left  him  to  talk  to  his  dear  plants,  while  I  shot  partridges 
for  our  supper.  We  spent  six  days  in  the  woods,  and  the 
little  man  filled  his  black  wallet  with  all  sorts  of  rubbish,  as 
If  he  wilfully  shut  his  eyes  to  the  beautiful  flowers,  and  chose 
onlj-  to  admire  ugly,  insignificant  plants,  that  every  body 
else  passes  bj  without  noticing,  and  which,  often  as  I  had  been 
in  the  woods,  I  never  had  observed  before.    I  never  pursued 


BRIAN,  THE  STILL-HUNTUL 


1A0 


f  food  upon  hii 
bh  *his  arrange* 
-  good-naturedly 
)  steep  ridge  at 
ke  plains.  The 
man  grew  into 
in  he  uttered  a 
%  himself  dowc 
;ht.  'Oh,  what 
ihall  make  my 

I  could  not  help 
ot  the  beautiful 
drew  forth  these 
ich  he  had  rum- 
e  moss  and  long 
lay  in  our  path, 
ition  over  some 
'  upon  it,  wluch 
;  himself  repaid 
,t,  if  it  were  only 
eautiful  blossom 
rhen  I  presented 
have  seen  that 

t  him  a  fool,  and 
I  shot  partridges 
woods,  and  the 
Is  of  rubbish,  as 
owers,  and  chose 
that  every  body 
ten  as  I  had  been 
I  never  pursued 


a  deer  with  such  earnestness  as  he  continued  his  hunt  for  what 
he  called  '  specimens,' 

•'  When  we  came  to  the  Cold  Creek,  which  is  pretty  deep  In 
places,  he  was  in  such  a  hurry  to  get  at  some  plants  that  grew 
under  the  water,  that  in  reaching  after  them  he  lost  his  balance 
and  fell  head  over  heels  into  the  stream.  He  got  a  thorough 
ducking,  and  was  in  a  terrible  fright ;  but  he  held  on  to  the 
flowers  which  had  caused  the  trouble,  and  thanked  his  stars 
that  he  had  saved  them  as  well  as  his  life.  Well,  he  was  an 
innocent  man,"  continued  Brian ;  "  a  very  little  made  him 
happy,  and  at  night  he  would  sing  and  amuse  himself  like  a 
child.  He  gave  me  ten  dollars  for  my  trouble,  and  I  never 
saw  him  again;  but  I  often  think  of  him,  when  hunting 
in  the  woods  that  we  wandered  through  together,  and  I  pluek 
the  wee  plants  that  he  used  to  admire,  and  wonder  why  he 
preferred  thtm  to  the  fine  flowers." 

When  oui-  resolution  was  formed  to  sell  our  farm,  and  take 
op  our  grant  c^atid  in  the  backwoods,  no  one  was  so  earnest 
in  trying  to  persuade  us  to  give  up  this  ruinous  scheme  as  our 

friend  Brian  B ,  who  became  quite  eloquent  in  his  desorip 

tion  of  the  trials  and  sorrows  that  awaited  us.    During  the 

last  week  of  our  stay  in  the  township  of  H ,  he  vidted 

us  every  evening,  and  never  bade  us  good-night  without  a  tear 
moistening  his  cheek.  We  parted  with  the  hunter  as  with  an 
old  friend ;  «id  we  never  met  again.  His  fate  was  a  sad  one. 
After  we  left  that  part  of  the  country,  he  fell  into  a  moping 
melancholy,  which  ended  in  self-destruction.  But  a  kinder  or . 
warmer-hearted  man,  while  he  enjoyed  the  light  of  reason,  haa 
seldom  crossed  our  path. 


IM 


Moronma  it  in  tux  musm- 


CHAPTER  XI. 


THC    CHARIVARI. 

THE  moan  of  the  wind  tells  of  the  coming  rain  that  It  V^M 
upon  its  wings;  the  deep  stillness  of  the  woods,  and  the 
lengthened  shadow  they  cast  upon  the  stream,  silently  but 
suT«ly  foreshow  the  bursting  of  the  thundercloud;  and  *ho 
that  has  lived  for  any  time  upon  the  coast,  can  mistake  the 
language  of  the  waves;  that  deep  prophetic  surging  that 
UBhers  in  the  terrible  galel  So  it  is  with  the  human  heart- 
it  has  its  mysterious  warnings,  its  fits  of  sunshine  and  ahade, 
of  storm  and  calm,  now  elevated  with  anticipations  >f  joy, 
now  depressed  by  dark  presentiments  of  ill. 

All  who  have  ever  trodden  this  earth,  possessed  of  the 
powers  of  thought  and  reflection,  of  tracing  eflects  back  to 
their  causes,  have  listened  to  these  voices  of  the  soul,  and 
secretly  acknowledged  their  power;  but  few,  very  few,  have 
h»A  courage  boldly  to  declare  their  belief  in  them :  the  wisest 
and  the  best  have  given  credence  to  them,  and  the  experience 
of  every  day  proves  their  truth;  yea,  the  proverbs  of  past 
ages  abound  with  allusions  to  the  same  subject,  and  though 
the  worldly  may  sneer,  and  the  good  man  repiobate  the 
belief  in  a  theory  which  he  considers  dangerous,  yet  the 
former,  when  he  appears  led  by  an  irresistible  impulse  to 
enter  into  some  fortunate,  but  unUl  then  unthoughtof  sp^jula. 
tion ;  and  the  latter,  when  he  devoutly  exclaims  that  God  has 
met  him  in  prayer,  unconsciously  acknowledge  the  same 


Tss  obasivahl 


101 


rain  that  it  \ntn 
e  yrooda,  and  the 
jam,  silently  but 
r-cloud;  and  who 
,  can  mistake  the 
etic  surging  that 
ie  human  heart— 
inshine  and  uhade, 
ticipations  ii  joy, 

possessed  of  the 
ig  eflects  back  to 
I  of  the  soul,  and 
sw,  very  few,  have 
1  them :  die  wisest 
ind  the  experience 
I  proverbs  of  past 
abject,  aiid  though 
aan  repiobate  the 
langerous,  yet  the 
listible  impulse  to 
ithoughtof  specula* 
laims  that  God  has 
jwledge  the  same 


^Whml  airencv.  For  my  own  part,  I  have  no  doubts  upon 
S^I^^ecT^d  have  found  many  times,  and  at  different  pe- 
ri^rXy  life,  that  the  voico  in  the  soul  speaks  truly  that 
Tft  gav7strict;r  heed  to  i«  mysterious  warmngs,  we  should 
be  saved  much  aaer^rrow. 

Well  do  1  remember  how  sternly  and  solemnly  this   n- 
ward  n.«nitor  warned  me  of  approaching  ill,  the  last  mgnt  I 
^nt  at  home;  how  it  strove  to  draw  me  b««k  « J-m  a 
^rful  abyss,  beseeching  me  not  to  leave  Engl'^*  and  emU 
plte  to  Canada,  and  h.      ,ludly  would  \  hav«  obeyed  the 
function  had  it  still  I        a  my  power.    I  had  ^-^J^J 
luperior  mandate,  the  command  of  duty ;  for  my  husband  s 
X  for  the  sake  of  the  infant,  whose  little  bo«>m  heaved 
Z^^sVmy  swelling  heart,  I  had  consented  to  bid  ad.eu  for 
Ter  to  my  native  Aores,  and  it  seemed  both  useless  and  sm- 

ful  to  draw  back.  ,  .       *  _ti.  t^  „„»i. 

Yet,  by  what  stem  necesmty  were  we  driven  forth  to  seek 

a  new  home  amid  the  western  wilds  1    We  were  not  com- 

pen  J  toTmigrate.    Bound  to  England  by  a  thousand  holy 

JSdtdearing'^es.  surrounded  by  a  --^^ J^^^^"  ^IJ ^e 

•nd  happy  in  each  other's  love,  we  posse^  all  that  the 

world  Z  bestow  of  good-but  v,eam.    T^e  half-pay  of  a 

:::;altem  officer,  managed  with  the  most  "^^  e-"-^ 

too  small  to  supply  the  wante  of  a  famOy;  and  if  of  a  good 

^;  not  enoSg/to  maintain  his  original  Btanding  in  j«c^. 

True,  it  may  find  his  chUdren  bread,  it  may  clothe  Aem  indit 

fe^ntly,  but  it  leaves  notfiing  for  the  indispensable  require- 

Ztoi  education,  or  the  painM  contingencies  of  sickne* 

^^Tmisfortune.  ^ -<*»--' ^*  »  ^*  "*"  tn'S'Tr 
emigrate;  Nature  pomts  it  out  as  the  oriy  safe  remedy  for 
TeS  Uing  out  of  an  over-dense  ]j>pulation,  and  her  ad- 

vice  is  always  founded  upon  justice  and  truth. 

Up  to  the  period  of  which  I  now  speak,  we  had  not  e«pe. 


1 


7 


I 


^r 


163 


Rouamm  ir  in  the  bush. 


riencisd  much  inconvenience  from  our  very  limited  nieana 
Our  wants  were  few,  and  we  enjoyed  many  of  tlic  comforta 
and  even  some  of  the  luxuries  of  life ;  and  all  had  gone  on 
■moolliiy  and  lovingly  with  us  until  the  birth  of  our  fii  .r 
child,  it  was  then  that  prudence  whispered  to  the  father, 
"  You  are  happy  and  contented  now,  but  this  cannot  always 
last ;  the  birth  of  that  child  whom  you  have  hailed  with  as 
much  rapture  as  though  she  were  bom  to  inherit  a  noble 
estate,  is  to  you  the  beginniug  of  care.  Your  family  may  in- 
crease, and  your  wants  will  increase  in  proportion ;  out  of 
whii  fbnd  can  you  satisfy  their  demands?  Somi^  provision 
must  be  made  for  the  future,  and  made  quickly,  while  youth 
and  health  enable  you  to  combat  successfully  with  the  ilh  of 
life.  When  you  married  for  inclination,  you  knew  that  e<ns. 
gration  must  be  the  result  of  such  an  act  of  imprudence  \a 
over-populated  England.  Up  and  be  douig,  while  you  stiJl 
possess  the  means  of  transporting  yourself  to  a  land  whore 
the  tadustrious  can  never  lack  bread,  and  where  there  is  a 
chance  that  wealth  and  independence  may  reward  virtuous 

toil." 

Alas!  that  truth  should  ever  whisper  such  unpleasant 
realities  to  the  lover  of  ease — to  the  poet,  the  author,  the 
musician,  the  man  of  books,  of  refined  taste  and  gentlemanly 
habits.  Yet  he  took  the  hint,  and  began  to  bestir  himself 
with  the  spirit  and  enei^  so  characteristic  of  the  glorious 
North,  from  whence  he  sprung. 

"  The  sacrifice,"  he  said,  "  must  be  made,  and  the  sooner 
the  better.  My  dear  wife,  I  feel  confident  that  you  will  re 
spond  to  the  call  of  duty,  and,  hand  in  hand  and  heart  in  heart, 
we  will  go  forth  to  meet  difficulties,  and,  by  the  help  of  God, 
to  subdue  them." 

Dear  husband !  I  take  shame  to  myself  that  my  purpose 
was  leas  firm,  tJiat  my  heart  lingered  so  far  behind  yours  it 


ifT" 


r. 

limited  meant 

of  the  comforts 
all  had  gone  on 
lirth  of  our  fir..t 
id  to  the  futhtr, 
lis  cannot  always 
^e  hailed  with  as 
)  inherit  a  noble 
ir  family  may  in- 
^portion ;  out  of 

Soim-,  provision 
ukly,  while  youth 
f  with  the  ilh  of 
lU  knew  that  emu 
of  imprudenov  in 
;,  while  you  stlJl 

to  a  land  whore 
where  there  is  a 

reward  virtuous 

such  unpleasant 
^  the  author,  the 
I  and  gentlemanly 
to  bestir  himself 
0  of  the  glorious 

le,  and  the  sooner 
that  you  will  re 
ind  heart  in  heart, 
'  the  help  of  God, 

r  that  my  purpose 
r  behind  yours  n 


mitmmstm^tk 


\yi^*iM,*i«f'W^''-  ■  MtWMl 


m^mdis 


r 


y 


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^K^^ 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


U£  Uii   12.2 
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L25  iU  ii.6_ 


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Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


23  WBT  MAIN  STRKT 

WIBSTn,N.Y.  MStO 

(716)872-4503 


■^:'t"'-u'^*ZX^{iifS^j'('S^S0ttBKtKk 


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CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


■V;h 


CIHJVI/ICIVIH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  IVIicroreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


m 


THE  OHASIVABL 


163 


'P^'eparing  fur  thid  great  epoch  in  our  Ihes;  ihat,like  Lot'n 
wife,  I  still  turned  and  looked  bock,  and  clung  with  all  my 
strength  to  the  land  I  was  leaving.  It  was  not  the  hardships 
of  an  emigrant's  life  I  dreaded.  I  could  bear  mere  physical 
privations  philosophically  enough ;  it  was  the  loss  of  the  so* 
ciety'in  which  I  had  moved,  the  want  of  congenial  minds,  of 
persons  engaged  in  congenial  pursuits,  that  made  me  so  reluo> 
tant  to  re^nd  to  my  husband's  call. 

I  was  the  youngest  in  a  family  remArliable  for  their  literary 
attainments ;  and,  while  yet  a  child,  I  had  seen  riches  melt 
away  from  our  once  prosperous  home,  as  the  Canadian  snows 
dissolve  before  the  first  warm  days  of  spring,  leaving  the 
verdureless  earth  naked  and  bare. 

There  was,  however,  a  spirit  in  my  family  that  rose 
superior  to  the  crusliing  influences  of  adversity.  Poverty, 
which  so  oflen  degrades  the  weak  mind,  became  their  best 
teacher,  the  stem  but  fruitful  parent  of  high  resolve  and  en< 
nobling  thought.  The  very  misfortime  that  overwhelmed, 
became  the  source  from  whence  they  derived  both  energy 
and  strength,  as  the  inundation  of  some  mighty  river  fertilizes 
the  shores  over  wluch  it  first  spreads  ruin  and  desolation. 
Without  losing  aught  of  their  former  position  in  society,  they 
dared  to  be  poor ;  to  place  mind  above  matter,  and  make  the 
talents  with  which  the  great  Father  had  liberally  endowed 
them,  work  out  their  appointed  end.  The  world  sneered,  and 
summer  friends  forsook  them ;  they  turned  their  back  upon 
the  world,  and  upon  the  ephemeral  tribes  that  live  but  in  its 
smiles. 

From  out  the  solitude  in  which  they  dwdt,  their  names 
went  forth  through  the  crowded  cities  of  that  cold,  meering 
world,  and  their  names  were  mentioned  with  respect  by  the 
wise  and  good ;  and  what  they  lost  in  wealth  they  more  that 
regained  in  weU-oamed  reputation. 


iWnitTiimiiiiiiii 


r 


'"^•i^^^p^" 


xouonma  it  is  the  bush. 


Brou^t  up  in  this  school  of  self-denial,  it  vould  have  been 
strange  indeed  if  all  its  vrise  and  holy  precepts  had  brought 
forth  no  corresponding  fixiit  I  endeavoured  to  reconcile  my< 
self  to  the  change  that  awaited  me,  to  accommodate  my  muid 
and  pursuits  to  the  new  position  in  which  I  found  myself 
placed. 

Many  a  hard  battle  rjid  we  to  fight  ¥rith  old  prejudices, 
and  many  proud  swellings  of  the  heart  to  subdue,  before  we 
could  feel  the  least  interest  in  the  land  of  our  adoption,  or  look 
upon  it  as  our  home. 

All  was  new,  strange,  and  distasteftd  to  us ;  we  shrank  from 
the  rude,  coarse  familiarity  of  the  uneducated  people  among 
whom  we  were  thrown ;  and  they  in  return  viewed  us  as  in- 
novators,  who  wished  to  curtail  their  independence,  by  ex- 
pecting from  them  the  kindly  civilities  and  gentle  courtesies 
of  a  more  refined  community.  They  considered  us  proud 
and  shy,  when  we  were  only  annous  not  to  give  ofience. 
The  semi-barbarous  Yankee  squatters,  who  had  "  left  their 
country  for  their  country's  good,"  and  by  whom  we  were  sur- 
rounded in  our  first  settlement,  detested  us,  and  with  them  we 
could  have  no  feeling  in  common.  We  could  neither  lie  nor 
cheat  in  our  dealings  with  them ;  and  they  despised  us  for 
our  ignorance  in  trading  and  our  want  of  smartness. 

The  utter  want  of  that  common  courtesy  with  which  a 
well-brought-up  European  addresses  the  poorest  of  his  bretli- 
ren,  is  severely  fSalt  at  first  by  settlers  in  Canada.  At  the 
period  of  which  I  am  now  speaking,  the  titles  of  "sir"  or 
"  madam"  were  very  rarely  applied  by  inferiors.  Hiey  en 
tered  your  house  without  knocking;  and  wlule  boasting  of 
their  fireedom,  violated  one  of  its  dearest  laws,  which  considers 
even  the  cottage  of  the  poorest  labourer  his  casUe,  and  his 
privacy  sacred. 

"Is  your  man  to  hum?" — ^"U  the  woman  within  1"  wert 


THE  CHARIVARI. 


les 


irould  have  been 
pta  had  brought 
to  reconcile  my- 
nodate  my  miiid 
I  found  myself 

I  old  prejudices, 
ibdue,  before  we 
adoption,  or  look 

;  we  shrank  from 
3d  people  among 
viewed  us  as  in- 
ipendence,  by  ex- 
gentle  courtesies 
sidered  us  proud 
to  give  ofienoe. 
>  had  "left  their 
lom  we  were  sur- 
and  with  them  we 
lid  neither  lie  nor 
y  despised  us  for 
lartness. 

esy  with  which  s 
>rest  of  his  bretb- 
Canada.  At  the 
titles  of  "sir"  or 
feriors.  They  en 
wlule  boasting  of 
vs,  wUch  condders 
his  castle,  and  his 

rum  within  T  were 


the  general  inquiries  made  to  me  by  sudi  guests,  while  my 
bare-legged,  ragged  Irish  servants  were  always  spoken  to,  a* 
«  sir"  and  "  mm^'  as  if  to  make  the  distinction  more  pointed. 
WhUe  they  treated  our  claims  to  their  respect  with  marked 
insult  and  rudeness,  I  never  could  satisfiictorily  determine,  in 
any  way  that  could  reflect  honour  on  the  species,  or  even 
plead  an  excuse  for  its  brutality,  until  I  found  that  this  msc 
lence  was  more  generally  practised  by  the  low,  uneducated 
emigrants  from  Britain,  who  better  understood  your  "Isims 
to  their  civility,  than  by  the  natives  themselves.    Then  I  dis- 
covered  the  secret.  , 

The  unnatural  restraint  wUch  society  imposes  upon  these 
people  at  home,  forces  them  to  treat  their  more  fortunate  - 
brethren  with  a  servile  deference  which  is  repugnant  to  their 
feelings,  and  is  thrust  upon  them  by  the  dependent  circum- 
stances  in  which  they  are  placed.    This  homage  to  rank  and 
education  is  not  sincere.    Hatred  and  envy  lie  rankling  at  their 
heart,  although  hidden  by  outward  obsequiousness.    Neces- 
sity  compels  their  obedience;   they  fawn,  and  cringe,  and 
flatter  the  wealth  on  which  they  depend  for  bread.    But  let 
them  once  emigrate,  the  dog  which  fettered  them  »  suddenly 
removed;  they  are  free;  and  the  dearest  privUege  of  Uus 
freedom  is  to  wreak  upon  their  superiors  the  long-looked^p 
hatred  of  their  hearts.    They  think  they  can  debase  you  to 
their  level  by  disallowing  all  your  claims  to  distinction; 
whUe  they  hope  to  exalt  themselves  and  their  feUows  mto 
ladies  and  gentlemen  by  sinking  you  back  to  the  only  taUe 
you  received  from  Nature-plain  "man"  and  "woman. 
Oh,  how  much  more  honourable  than  their  vulgar  preten- 

°  I  never  knew  the  real  dignity  of  these  simple  epithets  untD 
they  were  insultingly  thrust  upon  us  by  the  working«la««s 
ofCanada. 


M6 


BOUOmNO  IT  IN  TBB  JUUSB. 


But  from  this  folly  the  native-bom  Canadian  is  exempt ;  it 
b  only  practised  by  the  low-bom  Yanliee,  or  the  Yankeefied 
British  peasantry  and  mechanics.  It  originates  in  the  enor- 
mous reaction  springing  out  of  a  sudden  emancipation  from 
a  state  of  utter  dependence  hito  one  of  unrestrained  liberty. 
As  such,  I  not  only  excuse,  but  forgpve  it,  for  the  principle 
is  founded  in  nature ;  and,  however  disgusting  and  distasteflil 
to  those  accustomed  to  different  treatment  from  their  infe- 
riors, it  is  better  than  a  hollow  profession  of  duty  and  attach- 
ment urged  upon  us  by  a  Mae  and  unnatural  position.  Still 
it  is  very  irksome  untQ  you  think  more  deeply  upon  it;  and 
then  it  serves  to  amuse  rather  than  to  irritate. 

Seventeen  years  has  made  as  great  a  difference  in  the  state 
of  society  in  Onnada,  as  it  has  in  its  commercial  and  political 
importance.  When  we  came  to  the  Canadas,  society  was 
composed  of  elements  which  did  not  always  amalgamate  in 
the  best  possible  manner. 

We  were  reckoned  no  addition  to  the  society  of  C . 

Authors  and  literary  people  they  held  in  supreme  detestation; 
and  I  was  told  by  a  lady,  the  very  first  time  I  appeared  in 
company,  that  "  ^e  heard  that  I  wrote  books,  but  she  could 
tell  me  that  they  did  not  want  a  Mrs.  TroUope  in  Canada." 

I  had  not  then  read  Mrs.  Trollope's  work  on  America,  or 
I  should  have  comprehended  at  once  the  cause  of  her  indigna- 
tion ;  for  she  was  just  such  a  person  as  would  have  drawn 
forth  the  keen  satire  of  that  fkr-seeing  observer  of  the  absurd- 
ities of  our  nature,  whose  witty  exposure  of  American  ai!ecta> 
taon  has  done  more  towards  producing  a  reform  in  that  respect, 
than  would  have  resulted  trom  a  thousand  grave  animadver* 
■ions  soberly  written. 

Another  of  my  selfoonsdtuted  advisers  informed  me,  with 
great  asperity  in  her  look  and  tone,  tha't  "it  would  be  bettei 
fiv  me  to  lay  by  the  pen,  and  betake  myself  to  some  mora 


,y 


■^ 


THE  CHARIVARI. 


i«r 


adiau  is  exempt ;  it 
),  or  the  Yankeefied 
pnates  in  the  enor- 
I  emancipation  firom 
orestnuned  liberty, 
it,  for  the  principle 
sting  and  distastefiil 
ent  from  their  infe* 
of  duty  and  attacb- 
ural  position.  Still 
deeply  upon  it;  and 
itate. 

ifference  in  the  state 
meroial  and  political 
bnadas,  society  was 
rays  amalgamate  in 

le  society  of  C- 


Bupreme  detestation; 

time  I  appeared  in 
books,  but  she  could 
oUope  in  Canada." 
rork  on  America,  or 
cause  of  her  indigna- 
I  would  have  drawn 
server  of  the  absurd* 

of  American  aflecta> 
eform  in  that  respect, 
nd  grave  animadver* 

ra  informed  me,  with 
"it  would  be  bettet 
yself  to  some  more 


oseful  employment ;  that  she  thanked  her  God  that  she  could 
make  a  shirt,  and  see  to  the  cleaning  of  her  house !" 

These  remarks  were  perfectly  gratuitous,  and  called  fortJ!) 
by  no  observation  of  mine ;  for  I  tried  to  conceal  my  blue 
itockiiigs  beneath  the  long  omventional  robes  of  the  tamest 
commonplace,  hoping  to  cover  the  feintest  tinge  of  the  objec. 
ticmable  colour.  I  had  spoken  to  neither  of  these  women  in 
my  life,  and  was  much  amused  by  their  remarks ;  particularly 
as  I  could  both  make  a  shirt,  and  attend  to  the  domestic 
arrangement  of  my  family,  as  well  as  either  of  them.  I 
verily  believe  that  they  expected  to  find  an  author  one  of  a 
distinct  species  from  themselves;  that  they  imagined  tiie 
•foresaid  biped  should  neither  eat,  drink,  sleep,  nor  talk  like 
other  folks ; — a  proud,  useless,  self^ionceited,  affected  animal, 
that  deserved  nothing  but  kicks  and  buffets  from  the  rest  of 
mankind. 

Anxious  not  to  oflend  theid,  I  tried  to  avoid  all  literary 
subjects.  I  confined  my  conversation  to  topics  of  common 
interest ;  but  this  gave  greater  offence  than  the  most  ostenta* 
tious  show  of  learning,  for  they  concluded  that  I  would  not 
talk  on  such  subjects,  because  I  thought  them  incapable  of 
understanding  me.  This  was  more  wounding  to  their  sel^love 
than  the  most  am^ant  assumption  on  my  part ;  and  they  ro. 
garded  me  with  a  jealous,  envious,  stand-aloofishness,  that  was 
■o  intolerable  that  I  gave  up  all  ideas  of  visiting  them.  I  waa 
so  accustomed  to  hear  the  whispered  remaric,  or  to  have  it 
retailed  to  me  by  others,  "  Oh,  yes,  she  can  write,  but  f>he  can 
do  notUng  else,"  that  I  was  made  more  diligent  in  cultivating 
every  brandi  of  domestic  usefulness;  so  that  these  ill-natured 
mrcasms  ultimately  led  to  my  acquiring  a  great  mass  of  most 
oseftil  practical  knowledge.  Yet — such  is  the  contradiction 
faiherent  in  our  poor  fiillen  nature — these  people  were  more 
annoyed  by  my  profidenoy  in  the  common  labours  of  a  hous» 


^jvt™ 


168 


ROUOHUrO  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


Iiold,  than  they  would  have  been  by  any  displays  of  my  uu 
fortunate  authorship.  Never  was  i!b»  &ble  of  the  old  mas 
•nd  his  ass  so  truly  verified. 

Tliere  is  very  little  of  the  sodal,  fKendly  visiting  among  the 
Canadians  which  constitutes  the  great  charm  of  home,  llseir 
hospitality  is  entirely  reserved  for  those  monster  meetings  in 
which  they  vie  with  each  other  in  displaying  fine  olothea  and 
costly  fiimiture.  As  these  lai^e  parties  are  very  expensive, 
few  fiunilies  can  afford  to  give  more  than  one  during  die  visit- 
ing  season,  which  is  almost  exclusively  ocmfined  to  tlie  winter. 
Hie  great  gun  once  fired,  you  meet  no  more  at  the  same  house 
around  the  social  board  until  the  ensuing  year,  and  would 
scarcely  know  that  you  had  a  neighbour,  were  it  not  for  a 
formal  morning  call  made  now  and  then,  just  to  remind  you 
that  sudi  individuals  are  in  the  land  of  the  living,  and  still 
exist  in  your  near  vicinity. 

I  am  speaking  of  visiting  in  the  towns  and  villages.  Tlie 
manners  and  habits  of  the  European  settlers  in  the  country 
are  far  more  simple  and  natural,  and  their  hospitality  more 
genuine  and  sincere.  They  have  not  been  sophisticated  by 
tbe  hard,  worldly  wisdom  of  a  Canadian  town,  and  stiU  retain 
A  warm  remembrance  of  the  kindly  humanities  of  home. 

Among  the  women,  a  love  of  dress  exceeds  all  other  pas- 
rions.  In  public  they  dress  in  silks  and  satins,  and  wear  the 
moat  expenrive  ornaments,  and  they  di^lajr  considerable 
taste  in  the  arrangement  and  choice  of  colours.  The  wife  of 
s  man  in  moderate  circumstances,  whose  income  does  not  ex- 
ceed two  or  three  hundred  pounds  a-year,  does  not  hesitate  in 
expending  ten  or  fifteen  pounds  upon  one  article  of  outside 
finery,  while  often  her  inner  garments  are  not  worth  as  many 
sous;  thus  sacrificing  to  outward  show  all  the  real  comforts 
of  life.  Tba  aristocracy  of  wealth  is  bad  ^noug^ ;  but  the 
aristocracy  of  dress  is  perfectly  contemptible.    Could  Raphael 


lisplays  of  my  uu 
|e  of  the  old  num 

▼isiting  among  the 
of  home.  Dieir 
onster  meetings  ia 
jng  fine  clothes  and 
ire  very  expensive, 
>ne  during  die  visit- 
fined  to  the  winter. 
)  at  the  same  house 
g  year,  and  would 
,  were  it  not  for  a 
just  to  remind  you 
the  living,  and  still 

and  villages.  The 
btlers  in  the  country 
)ir  hospitality  more 
een  sophisticated  by 
own,  and  stiU  retain 
nities  of  home, 
[oeeds  all  other  pas- 
satins,  and  wear  the 
Uq>lay  considerable 
Jours.  The  wife  of 
income  does  not  ex- 
does  not  hesitate  in 
e  article  of  outside 
not  worth  as  many 
I  the  real  comforts 
ad  ^nou^;  but  the 
ble.    Could  Raphael 


TffK  OHARtVAHl 


169 


visit  Canada  in  rags,  he  would  be  nothing  in  their  eyes  beyond 
•  common  sign-painter. 

Great  and  manifold,  even  to  the  ruin  of  fiimilies,  are  the 
evils  arising  from  this  inordinate  love  for  dress.  Tliey  derivo 
their  fashions  from  the  French  and  the  Americana — seldom 
from  the  English,  whom  they  far  surpass  in  the  neatness  and 
elegance  of  (heir  costume. 

Hie  Canadian  women,  while  they  retain  the  bloom  and 
freshness  of  youth,  are  exceedingly  pretty ;  but  these  ckirms 
soon  &de,  owing,  perhaps,  to  the  fierce  extremes  of  their  di* 
mate,  or  the  withering  efl^  of  the  dry,  metallic  air  of  stoves, 
and  their  going  too  early  into  company  and  being  exposed, 
whUe  yet  children,  to  the  noxious  influence  of  late  hours,  and 
the  sudden  change  from  heated  rooms  to  the  cold,  biting,  bitter 
winter  blast 

Though  small  of  stature,  they  are  generally  well  and  sym* 
metrically  formed,  and  possess  a  graceful,  easy  carriage.  The 
early  age  at  which  they  marry,  and  are  int^Qduced  into  so- 
ciety, takes  firom  them  all  awliwardness  and  restraint.  A  girl 
of  fourteen  can  enter  a  crowded  ball-room  with  as  much  sell^ 
possesraon,  and  ccmverse  with  as  much  confidence,  as  a  matron 
of  forty.  The  blush  of  timidity  and  diffidence  is,  indeed,  rare 
upon  the  cheelc  of  a  Canadian  beauty.  Iheir  education  is  so 
limited  and  confined  to  so  few  accomplishments,  and  these  not 
very  perfectly  taught,  that  their  conversation  seldom  goes  be- 
yond a  particular  discusnon  on  their  own  dress,  or  that  of 
their  neighbours,  their  houses,  furniture,  and  servants,  some- 
times interlarded  with  a  littU  karmku  gotsip,  which,  however, 
tells  keenly  upon  the  charact<>n>  of  their  dear  friends. 

Yet  they  have  abilities,  eu  .cQ-^nt  practical  abilities,  which, 
with  a  little  mental  culture,  y>-  aid  render  them  intellectual 
ind  charming  companions.  At  present,  too  many  of  these 
truly  lovely  girls  remind  one  of  choice  flowers  half  buried  ia 

8 


5<" 

'tz 


170 


Rouomsa  it  in  the  bush. 


weeds.  Music  and  dancing  are  their  chief  accomplishment* 
In  the  fbrmer  they  seldom  excel.  Though  possessing  an  e» 
ccllent  general  taste  for  music,  it  is  seldom  in  their  power  to 
bestow  upon  its  study  the  time  which  is  required  to  make 
a  really  good  musician.  They  are  admirable  proficients  in  the 
other  art,  which  they  acquire  readily,  with  the  least  instruo. 
tion,  often  without  any  instruction  at  all,  beyond  that  which  is 
given  almost  intuitively  by  a  good  ear  for  time,  and  a  quick 
perception  of  the  harmony  of  motion. 

The  waltz  is  their  favourite  dance,  in  which  old  and  young 
join  with  the  greatest  avidity ;  it  is  not  unusual  to  see  parents 
and  their  grown-up  children  dancing  in  the  same  set  in  a 
public  ball-room.  Their  taste  in  music  is  not  for  the  sen- 
tiraental ;  they  prefer  the  light,  lively  tunes  of  the  Virginian 
minstrels  to  the  most  impassioned  strains  of  Bellini. 

On  entering  one  of  the  public  ball-rooms,  a  stranger  would 
be  delighted  with  such  a  display  of  pretty  faces  and  neat 
figures.  I  have  hardly  ever  seen  a  really  plain  Canadian 
girl  in  her  teens;  and  a  downright  ugly  one  is  almost  un 

known. 

The  high  cheek-bones,  wide  mouth,  and  tumed-up  nos*. 
of  the  Saxon  race,  so  common  among  the  lower  classes  in 
Britain,  are  here  succeeded  in  the  next  generation,  by  the 
small  oval  face,  straight  nose,  and  beautifully-cut  mouth  of 
the  American;  while  the  glowing  tint  of  the  Albion  rose 
pales  beneath  the  withering  influence  of  late  hours  and  stove. 

heat. 

They  are  naturally  a  fine  people,  and  possess  capabilities 
and  talents,  which,  when  improved  by  cultivation,  will  render 
them  second  to  no  people  in  the  world;  and  that  period  is 
not  &r  distant. 

Idiots  and  mad  people  are  so  seldom  met  with  am»ng 
natives  of  the  colony,  that  not  one  of  this  description  of  un 


m 

accoinplishmcnta 
possessing  an  eit 
I  in  their  power  to 
required  to  make 
e  proficients  in  the 
1  the  least  instrutv 
lyond  that  which  ia 
'  time,  and  a  quick 

bich  old  and  young 
isual  to  see  parents 
the  same  set  in  a 
is  not  for  the  sen- 
es  of  the  Virginian 
jf  Bellini. 
18,  a  stranger  would 
itty  faces  and  neat 
Uy  plain  Canadian 
one  is  almost  un- 

uid  tumed-up  nos*. 
tie  lower  classes  in 
generation,  by  the 
fully-cut  mouth  of 
of  the  Albion  rose 
ate  hours  and  stove- 
possess  capabilities 
tivation,  will  render 
;  and  that  period  is 

m  met  with  am'>ng 
is  description  of  un 


Tff£  OHARIVARI. 

fi)rtunates  has  ever  come  under  my  own  immediate  obsor\'» 
tion. 

It  was  towards  the  close  of  the  summer  of  1833,  which 
had  been  unusually  cold  and  wet  for  Canada,  while  Moodie 
was  absent  at  D ,  inspecting  a  portion  of  his  govern- 
ment grant  of  land,  that  I  was  startled  one  night,  just  before 
retiring  to  rest,  by  the  sudden  firing  of  guns  in  our  near  vi- 
cJTiity,  accompanied  by  shouts  and  yells,  the  braying  of  horns, 
the  Vieatitig  of  drums,  and  the  barking  of  all  the  dogs  in  the 
neighbourhood.  I  never  heard  a  more  stunning  uproar  of 
discordant  and  hideous  sounds. 

What  could  it  all  mean?  The  maid-servant,  as  much 
alarmed  as  myself,  opened  the  door  and  listened. 

"  The  goodness  defend  us !"  she  exclaimed,  quickly  closing 
it,  and  drawing  a  bolt  seldom  used.  "  We  shall  be  murdered. 
The  Yankees  must  have  taken  Canada,  and  are  marching 
hither." 

"  Nonsense !  that  cannot  be  it.  Besides,  they  would  never 
leave  the  maiii  road  to  attack  a  poor  place  like  this.  Yet  the 
noise  is  very  near.  Hark !  they  are  firing  again.  Bring 
me  the  bummer  and  some  nails,  and  let  us  secure  the  win- 
dows." 

The  next  moment  I  laughed  at  my  folly  in  attempting  to 
secure  a  log  hut,  when  the  application  of  a  match  to  its  rotten 
walls  would  consume  it  in  a  few  minutes.  Still,  as  the  noise 
increased,  I  was  really  frightened.  My  servant,  who  was 
Irish  (for  my  Scotch  girl,  Bell,  had  taken  to  herself  a  hus. 
band,  and  I  had  been  obliged  to  hire  another  in  her  place,  who 
had  been  only  a  few  days  in  the  country),  began  to  cry  and 
wring  her  hands,  and  lament  her  hard  fate  in  coming  to  Canada. 
Just  at  this  critical  moment,  when  we  were  both  self-con- 
victed  of  an  arrant  cowardice,  which  would  have  shamed  a 
Canadian  '•hild  of  six  years  old,  Mrs.  O tapped  at  the 


172 


BOUOMINO  IT  IN  THS  BUSB. 


t 


t 


i   , 


door,  And  although  generally  a  most  unwelcome  visitor,  from 
her  gossiping,  mischievous  propensities,  1  gladly  let  her  in. 
« Do  tell  me,"  I  cried,  "  the  meaning  of  this  strange  up- 

foarl" 

"  Oh,  'U»  nothing,"  she  replied,  laughing;  "  you  and  Mary 
look  as  wWte  as  a  sheet ;  but  you  need  not  bo  alarmed.  A 
set  of  wild  fellows  have  met  to  charivari  Old  Satan,  who  has 
married  his  fourth  wife  to-night,  a  young  gal  of  sixteen.  I 
should  not  wonder  if  some  mischief  happens  among  them,  for 
they  are  a  bad  set,  made  up  of  all  the  idle  loafers  about  Port 
H and  C ." 

"What  is  a  charivari]"  smd  L    "Do,  pray,  enlighten 

me. 

"  Have  you  been  nine  months  in  Canada,  and  ask  that  ques- 
tion 1     Why,  I  thought  you  knew  every  thing !    Well,  I  will 
tell  you  what  it  is.    The  charivari  is  a  custom  that  the  Cana- 
dians got  from  the  French,  in  the  Lower  Province,  and  a 
queer  custom  it  is.    When  an  old  man  marries  a  young  wife, 
or  an  old  woman  a  young  husband,  or  two  old  people,  who 
ought  to  be  thinking  of  their  graves,  enter  for  the  second  or 
third  time  into  the  holy  estate  of  wedlock,  as  the  priest  calls 
it,  all  the  idle  young  fellows  in  the  neighbourhood  meet  to- 
gether to  charivari   them.     For  this  purpose  they  disguise 
themselves,  blackening  their  faces,  putting  their  clothes  on 
hind  part  before,  and  wearing  horrible  masks,  with  grotesque 
caps  on  their  heads,  adorned  with  cocks'  feathers  and  bells. 
They  then  form  in  a  regular  body,  and  proceed  to  the  bride- 
groom's   house,   to  the    sound  of   tin   kettles,  horns,  and 
drums,  cracked  fidd'.es,  and  all  the  discordant  instruments 
they  can  collect  together.     Thus  equipped,  they  surround 
the  house  where  the  wedding  is  held,  just  at  the  hour  when  the 
happy  couple  are  supposed  to  be  about  to  retire  to  rest — beat- 
ing  upon  the  door  with  clubs  and  staves  and  demanding  of  tif 


[>me  viiiitor,  from 
idly  let  her  in. 
'  this  strange  up- 

"  you  and  Mary 
bo  alarmed.  A 
Id  Satan,  who  has 
gal  of  sixteen.  I 
I  among  them,  for 
loafers  about  Port 

>»  prayi  enlighten 

and  ask  that  ques- 
ingl    Well,  I  will 
om  that  the  Cana- 
r  Province,  and  a 
rrics  a  young  wife, 
ro  old  people,  who 
r  for  the  second  or 
,  as  the  priest  calls 
bourhood  meet  to- 
pose  they  disguise 
g  their  clothes  on 
sks,  with  grotesque 
feathers  and  bells. 
)ceed  to  the  bride- 
cettles,  horns,  and 
ardant  instruments 
)ed,  they  surround 
t  the  hour  when  the 
•etire  to  rest — beaU 
id  demanding  of  tie 


TIIK  OIIARIVARL 


17£ 


bridegroom  admittance  to  dnnk  the  bride's  health,  or  in  lieu 
thereof  to  receive  a  certain  sum  of  money  to  treat  the  band 
•t  the  nearest  tavern. 

"If  the  bridegroom  refuses  to  appear  and  grant  th.ir 
■  request,  they  commence  the  horrible  din  you  hear,  firing  gun 
diarged  with  peas  against  the  doors  and  windows,  rattling 
old  pots  and  kettles,  and  abusing  hitii  fur  his  stinginess  in  nu 
measured  terms.  Sometimes  they  brciik  open  the  doors,  and 
seize  upon  the  bridegroom ;  ho  may  esteem  himself  a  very  fortu- 
nate man,  under  such  circumstances,  if  he  escapes  being  ridden 
on  a  rail,  torred  and  feathered,  and  otherwise  maltreated.  I 
have  known  many  fatal  accidenjs  arise  out  of  an  imprudent  re- 
fusal  to  satisfy  the  demands  of  the  assailants.  People  have  even 
lost  their  lives  in  the  fray  ;  and  I  think  the  government  should 
interfere,  and  put  down  these  riotous  meetings.  Surely,  it  is 
very  hard,  that  an  old  man  cannot  marry  a  young  gal,  if  she  is 
willing  to  take  him,  without  asking  the  leave  of  such  a  rabble 
as  that.     What  right  have  they  to  interfere  with  his  private 

aflairs  V 

"  What,  indeed?"  said  I,  feeling  a  truly  British  indignation 
at  such  a  lawless  infringement  upon  the  natural  rights  of  man. 

« I  remember,"  continued  Mrs.  O ,  who  had  got  fairly 

started  upon  a  favourite  subject,  "  a  scene  of  this  kind,  that  was 

acted  two  years  ago,  at ,  when  old  Mr.  P took  his  third 

wife.  He  was  a  very  rich  storekeeper,  and  had  made  during 
the  war  a  great  deal  of  money.  He  felt  lonely  in  his  old  age, 
and  married  a  young,  handsome  widow,  to  enliven  his  house. 
The  lads  in  the  village  were  determined  to  make  him  pay  for 

his  frolic.     This  got  wind,  and  Mr.  P was  advised  to 

spend  the  honeymoon  in  Toronto ;  but  he  only  laughed,  and 
said  that '  he  was  not  going  to  be  frightened  from  his  comfort- 
able  home  by  the  threats  of  a  few  wild  boys.'  In  the  morning, 
he  was  married  at  the  church,  and  spenfthe  day  at  home, 


It- 


!*■ 


Iff; 

1: 


174 


souoHiso  IT  IN  me  bush. 


where  he  entertained  a  large  party  of  hie  own  and  the  bride  ■ 
friends.  During  the  evening,  all  the  idle  chaps  in  the  town 
collected  about  the  house,  headed  by  a  mad  youag  bookseller, 
who  had  offered  himself  for  their  captain,  and,  in  the  usual 
forms,  demanded  a  sight  of  the  bride,  and  liquor  to  drink  her  • 
health.    They  were  very  good-naturedly  received  by  Mr. 

p ,  who  sent  a  friend  down  to  them  to  bid  them  welcome 

and  to'  inquire  on  what  terms  they  would  consent  to  let  him 

off,  and  disperse. 

"The  captain  of  the  band  demanded  sixty  pounds,  as  he, 

Mr,  P ,  could  well  afford  to  pay  it 

"'That's  too  much,  my  fine  fellows!'    cried  Mr.  P 

from  the  open  window.    Say  twenty-five,  and  I  will  send  you 
down  a  cheque  upon  the  Bank  of  Montreal  for  the  money. 

"'Thirty!  thirty!  thirty!  old  boy!'  roared  a  hundred 
voices.  'Your  wife's  worth  that  Down  with  the  cash,  and 
we  will  give  you  three  cheers,  and  three  times  three  for  the 
bride,  and  leave  you  to  sleep  in  peace.  If  you  hang  back,  we 
will  raise  such  a  larum  about  your  ears  that  you  sha  n  t  know 
tliat  your  wife's  your  own  for  a  month  to  come !' 

"'Ill  give  you  twenty-five,'  remonstrated  the  bridegroom, 
not  the  least  alarmed  at  their  threats,  and  laughing  aU  the 
time  in  his  sleeve. 

"'Thirty;  not  one  copper  less!'  Here  they  gave  hmi 
mich  a  salute  of  diabolical  sounds  that  he  ran  from  the  win- 
dow  with  his  hands  to  his  ears,  and  his  friend  came  down 
stairs  to  the  verandah,  and  gave  them  the  sum  Uiey  required. 
They  did  not  expect  that  the  old  man  would  have  been  so 
liberal,  and  they  gave  him  the  'Hip,  hip,  hip,  hurrah!'  in  fine 
style,  and  marched  off  to  finish  the  night  and  spend  the  money 

at  the  tavern."  ,     ,    „.  ,      ^    # 

"And  do  people  allow  themselves  to  be  bullied  out  of 

dieir  property  by  such  ruffians  1" 


r. 

a  and  the  bride's 
ihaps  in  the  town 
fovcig  bookseller, 
wd,  in  the  usual 
q^uor  to  drink  her  ■ 
received  by  Mr. 
id  them  welcome 
lonsent  to  let  him 

rty  pounds,  as  he, 

cried  Mr.  P 

nd  I  will  send  you 
for  the  money.' 
roared  a  hundred 
irith  the  cash,  and 
mes  three  for  the 
you  hang  back,  we 
t  you  sha'n't  know 
ome !' 

sd  the  bridegroom, 
d  laughing  all  the 

ire  they  gave  him 
I  ran  from  the  win- 
friend  came  down 
sum  they  required, 
ould  have  been  sc 
lip,  hurrah!'  in  fine 
id  spend  the  money 

be  bullied  out  of 


7W»  CHARIVART. 


175 


«« Ah,  my  dear !  'tis  the  custom  of  the  country,  and  'tis  not 
BO  easy  to  put  it  down.  But  I  can  tell  you  that  a  charivari  is 
not  always  a  joke. 

"There  was  another  affeir  that  happened,  just  before  you 
came  to  the  place,  that  occasioned  no  small  talk  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood; and  well  it  might,  for  it  was  a  most  disgraceful 
piece  of  business,  and  attended  with  very  serious  conse- 
quences. Some  of  the  charivari  party  had  to  fly,  or  they 
might  have  ended  their  days  in  the  penitentiary. 

"  There  was  a  runaway  nigger  from  the  States  came  to  the 
village,  and  set  up  a  barber's  poll,  and  settled  among  us.  I 
am  no  friend  to  the  blacks;  but  really  Tom  Smith  was  such 
a  quiet,  good-natured  fellow,  and  so  civil  and  obliging,  that  he 
soon  got  a  good  business.  He  was  clever,  too,  and  cleans! 
old  clothes  until  they  looked  almost  as  good  as  new.  Well, 
after  a  tame  he  persuaded  a  white  girl  to  marry  him.  She 
was  not  a  bad-looking  Irishwoman,  and  I  can't  think  what 
bewitched  the  creature  to  take  him. 

•*  Her  marriage  with  the  black  man  crated  a  great  sensa- 
tion in  the  town.  All  the  young  fellows  were  indignant  at 
his  presumption  and  her  folly,  and  they  determined  to  give 
them  the  charivari  in  fine  style,  and  punish  them  both  for  the 
insult  they  had  put  upon  the  place. 

"  Some  of  the  young  gentlemen  in  the  town  joined  in  the 
ftolic.  They  went  so  far  as  to  enter  the  house,  drag  the  poor 
nigger  f5rom  his  bed,  and,  in  spite  of  his  shrieks  for  mercy, 
they  hurried  him  out  into  the  cold  air — for  it  was  winter — 
and  almost  naked  as  he  was,  rode  him  upon  a  rail,  and  so  ill- 
treated  him  that  he  died  under  their  hands. 

«*  They  left  the  body,  when  they  found  what  had  happened, 
and  fled.  The  ringleaders  escaped  across  the  lake  to  the 
other  side ;  and  those  who  remained  could  not  be  sufficiently 
identified  to  bring  them  to  trial.    The  afiair  was  hudied  up ; 


Ur 


176  ROUOmNO  IT  IN  THE  BUSB. 

but  it  gave  great  uneasineas  to  weral  reapectable  familiei 

whose  sons  were  in  the  scrape.' 

"  Good  heavfens !  are  such  things  permitted  in  a  Chn* 
tian  country  1    But  scenes  lilie  these  must  be  of  care  occur- 

rence]" 

"  They  are  more  common  than  you  imf^ne.    A  man  was 

killed  up  at  W the  other  day,  and  two  others  danger 

ously  wounded,  at  a  charivari.    TTie  bridegroom  was  a  man 
in  middle  life,  a  desperately  resolute  and  passionate  man,  and 
he  swore  that  if  such  riff-rafT  dared  to  interfere  with  him,  he 
would  shoot  at  them  with  as  little  compunction  as  he  would 
at  so  many  crows.  His  threats  only  increased  the  mischievous 
determination  of  the  mob  to  torment  him ;  and  when  he  re- 
flised  to  admit  their  deputation,  or  even  to  give  them  a  portion 
of  the  wedding  cheer,  they  determined  to  frighten  him  into 
compliance  by  firing  several  guns,  loaded  with  peas,  at  his 
door.    Their  salute  was  returned  from  the  chamber  window, 
by  the  discharge  of  a  double-barrelled  gun,  loaded  with  buck- 
shot.    The  crowd  gave  back  with  a  tremendous  yell.    Their 
leader  was  shot  through  the  heart,  and  two  of  the  foremost  in 
the  scuffle  dangerously  wounded.    They  vowed  they  would 
set  fire  to  the  house,  but  the  bridegroom  boldly  stepped  U> 
the  window,  and  told  them  to  try  it,  and  before  tfiey  could 
light  a  torch  he  would  fire  among  them  again,  as  his  gun  waa 
reloaded,  and  he  would  discharge  it  at  them  as  long  as  one  of 
them  dared  to  remain  on  Ws  premises. 

"They  cleared  off;  but  though  Mr.  A was  not  pun. 

isbed  for  the  accident,  as  it  was  called,  he  became  a  marked 
man,  and  lately  left  the  colony,  to  settle  in  the  United  Stotea. 
"  Why,  Mrs.  Moodie,  you  look  quite  serious.  I  can,  how 
•ver,  tell  you  a  less  dismal  tale.  A  charivari  would  seldom 
be  attended  with  bad  consequences  if  people  would  take  it  ai 
a  joke,  and  join  in  the  spree. 


ET. 

ipectable  familiei 

iltted  in  a  Chris, 
be  of  »re  occur- 
fine.    A  man  was 
iwo  others  danger 
;room  was  a  man 
Msionate  man,  and 
jrfcre  with  him,  he 
lotion  as  he  would 
«d  the  mischievous 
I ;  and  when  he  re- 
give  them  a  portion 
frighten  him  into 
i  with  peas,  at  his 
B  chamber  window, 
1,  loaded  with  buck- 
indous  yell.    Their 
3  of  the  foremost  in 
vowed  they  would 
I  boldly  stepped  to 
I  before  they  could 
gain,  as  his  gun  was 
m  as  long  as  one  of 

L was  not  pun- 

e  became  a  marked 
in  the  United  States, 
jerious.  I  can,  how 
ffivari  would  seldom 
}ple  would  take  it  aa 


THE  CHARIVARI. 


Ml 


"  A  very  dignified  proceedmg,  for  a  bride  and  brid^room 
to  make  themselves  the  laughing-stock  of  such  people !" 

"Oh,  but  custom  reconciles  us  to  every  thing;  and 'tia 
better  to  give  up  a  little  of  our  pride  than  endanger  the  lives 
of  our  fellow-creatures.  I  have  been  told  a  story  of  a  lady  in 
the  Lower  Province,  who  took  for  her  second  husband  a 
young  fellow,  who,  as  far  as  his  age  was  concerned,  might 
have  been  her  son.  The  mob  surrounded  her  house  at  night, 
carrying  her  eflfigy  in  an  open  coffin,  supported  by  six  young 
lads,  with  white  favours  in  their  hats ;  and  they  buried  the  poor 
bride,  amid  shouts  of  laughter,  and  the  usual  accompaniments, 
just  opposite  her  drawing-room  windows.  The  widow  was 
highly  amused  by  the  whole  of  their  proceedings,  but  she 
wisely  let  them  have  their  own  way.  She  lived  in  a  strong 
stone  house,  and  she  barred  the  doors,  and  closed  the  iron 
shutters,  and  set  them  at  defiance. 

"  ♦  As  long  as  she  enjoyed  her  health,'  she  said,  'they  were 
welcome  to  bury  her  in  effigy  as  often  as  they  pleased; 
she  was  really  glad  to  be  able  to  afford  amusement  to  so 
many  people.' 

•'  Night  afler  night,  during  the  whole  of  that  winter,  the 
same  party  beset  her  house  with  their  diabolical  music ;  but 
she  only  laughed  at  them. 

«*  The  leader  of  the  mob  was  a  young  lawyer  firom  these 
parts,  a  sad, mischievous  fellow;  the  widow  became  aware  of 
this  and  she  invited  him  one  evening  to  take  tea  with  a  small 
party  at  her  house.  He  accepted  the  invitation,  was  charmed 
with  her  hearty  and  hospitable  welcome,  and  soon  found  him- 
self quite  at  home;  but  oniy  thtak  how  ashamed  he  must  have 
Ifelt,  when  the  same  Harum  commenced,  at  the  usual  hour,  in 
front  of  the  lady's  houge ! 

"'Oh,'  swd  Mrs.  R ,  smiling  to  her  husband,  'here 

come  our  friends.    Really,  Mr.  K ,  they  amuse  us  so 

8* 


I 


178  BOUOmSO  rtlNTHM  BUSH. 

much  Of  an  evening  th.t  1  .hould  feel  quite  d«U  witho- 

^^'^From  that  lK,ur  tne  charivari  ceased,  and  Uie  old  hidy 
^  left  to  enjoy  the  society  of  her  young  husband  m  qmet. 

Mirureyou,Mrs.  M_,that  the  charivari  often  det«« 
old  people  from  making  disgraceful  marriages,  so  that  it » 
not  wholly  without  its  use."         .   ^.    „     ^ ^^..^ 

A  few  days  after  the  charivari  affair,  Mrs.  D  -stepped 
in  to  see  me  She  was  an  American;  a  very  respecljble  old 
IZ  Tho  rtsid^  in  a  handsome  frame  house  on  the  mam 
^iZ  aVdinner,  the  servant^irl,  in  the  mean  whde 
^ing  my  chad  at  a  distance.    Mrs.  D sat  ookmg  at 

mTwy Iriously  until  1  concluded  my  n'«J>'^«\'r 
toll^ralmplished  several  hours  before.    When  I  k^ 

SLed,the  girl  U  ">«  ^he  child,  and  then  removed  the  dm- 

ner  service  into  an  outer  room.  .  •.^.     a  i. 

«  You  don't  eat  with  your  helps,"  said  my  vuntor.  I» 
not  that  sometlung  like  pride  r  j«  ^  .♦ 

MtUcustom,"  «ud  I;  "we were  not  used  to  do  w^ 
home,  and  I  thmk  that  keeping  a  separate  table  »  more  com- 

fortable  for  both  parties."  ^  v,^,    Tha 

«Are  you  not  both  of  the  same  flesh  and  blood  1    11» 

rich  and  lie  poor  meet  together,  and  the  Lord  ia  die  maker 

^  Xf  Your  quotation  is  just,  and  I  --'  to  itwith  all 
myheart.  There  is  no  difference  in  the  flesh  and  blood ;  but 
Scau^make.  .difference  in  the  mind  and  manners,  and, 
till  these  can  aasimikte,  it  is  better  to  keep  apart. 

"Ah!  you  are  not  a  good  Christian,  Mrs.  Moodie.  The 
wlu^t  more  of  the  poor^  He  ^^ /^^-^-^ 
He  obtained  more  followers  from  among  them.  Now,  « 
•Iwavs  take  our  meals  with  our  people." 

pCX  •ft*'.  '»^«  ""^  °^^  the  a&i«  of  our  houaa. 


m 


.  .»i>»^  <-  ■_:^Mmf-1fnl-t,-'Mt-'  •i*# 


!rt;*-dW%^>;:-.;i-:r-,'  -.r««^'';#^"*' 


-^rH'W^ 


isr. 

^uite  dull  witho  ti 

,  and  the  old  lady 
.usband  in  quiet, 
rivari  often  deters 
■iages,  so  that  it  is 

re.  D stepped 

jry  respectable  old 
lOUse  on  the  mun 
n  the  mean  while, 

sat  looking  at 

eal,  her  dinner  hav- 
fore.  When  I  had 
fu  removed  the  din- 

d  my  visitor.    *•  fa 

I  used  to  do  so  at 
table  is  more  com- 

b  and  bloodi  The 
Lord  lis  the  maker 

[  assent  to  it  with  all 
flesh  and  blood ;  but 
id  and  manners,  and, 
ep  apart." 

,Mr8.Moodie.  The 
I  did  of  the  rich,  and 
>ng  them.    Now,  «w 

eafibinofourhouW' 


Tffg  CHARIVARI. 


179 


holds,  I  happened  to  say  that  the  cow  we  had  bought  of  Mol 
lineux  had  turned  out  extremely  weU,  and  gave  a  gi-eat  deal 

of  milk. 

"That  man  lived  with  us  several  years,"  she  said;     he 

was  an  excellent  servant,  and  D paid  him  his  wages  in 

laiid.    The  farm  that  he  now  occupies  formed  a  part  of  our 

New  England  grant.    But,  for  all  his  good  conduct,  I  never 

0ould  abide  Wm,  for  being  a  bUuk.^ 

"  Indeed !    Is  he  not  the  same  flesh  and  blood  as  the  rest?" 
"  The  colour  rose  into  Mrs.  D 's  sallow  face,  and  she 

answered,  with  much  Warmth, 

«*  What !  do  you  mean  to  compare  me  with  a  nigger  r 
«  Not  exactly.    But,  after  all,  the  colour  makes  the  only 

difference  between  him  and  uneducated  men  of  the  same 

alass." 

"  Mrs.  Moodie !"  she  exclaimed,  holding  up  her  hands  m 
•ious  horror,  "  they  are  the  children  of  the  devil !  God  never 
wndescended  to  make  a  nigger."- 

"Such  an  idea  is  an  unpeachment  of  the  power  and  maj. 
wty  of  the  Almighty.     How  can  you  believe  in  such  an  igno- 

•nt  fabler 

«  Well,  then,"  said  my  monitress,  in  high  dudgeon,  "  if 'he 
levil  did  not  make  them,  they  are  descended  from  Cain." 

«  But  all  Cain's  posterity  perished  in  the  flood." 

My  visitor  was  puzzled. 

"The  African  race,  it  is  generally  believed,  are  the  d». 
icendants  of  Ham,  and  to  many  of  their  tribes  the  curse  pro- 
aounced  against  him  seems  to  ding.  To  be  the  servant  of  ser- 
vuits  is  bad  enough,  without  our  making  their  condition  worse 
by  our  cruel  persecutions.  Christ  came  to  seek  and  to  save 
that  which  was  lost ;  and  in  proof  of  this  inestimable  promise, 
he  did  not  reject  the  Ethiopian  eunuch  who  was  baptized  by 
Philip,  and  who  was,  doubtless,  as  black  as  the  rest  of  his 


■'i 


im: 


W 


f-*- 


80  ROUQHINQ  IT  IS  THK  BUSK 

people.   Do  you  not  admit  Mollineux  to  your  table  with  )Our 

°^^'(^God !  do  you  think  that  I  would  8it  dowm  at  the 
„me  table  with  a  nigger  1  My  helps  would  leave  the  house 
if  1  dared  to  put  such  an  affront  upon  them.    Sit  down  with  a 

dirty  black,  indeed!" 

«DoVo«  think,  Mrs.  D ,  that  there  wdl  be  any 

negroes  in  heaven?" 

"Certainly  not,  or  I,  for  one,  would  never  ^  to  go 
there;"  and  out  of  the  house  s«e  sallied  in  high  disdam. 

Yet  this  was  the  woman  who  had  given  me  «»"«*  »  j!*"^ 
ble  lecture  on  pride.  Alas,  for  our  fallen  nature  I  Which  » 
more  subversive  of  peace  and  Christian  feUowship-jgnorance 
of  our  own  characters,  or  of  the  character,  of  othenil 

Our  departure  for  the  woods  became  now  a  fi^iuent 
theme  of  o^versation.  My  husband  h.^  just  returned  from 
Texploring  expedition  to  the  backwoods,  aad  wa.  dd^hted 
with  thel^pect  of  removing  thither.  Tbe  only  thmg  I 
listened  to  in  their  praise,  with  any  degree  of Jnterest,  w«a 
lively  little  song,  which  he  had  written  dunng  his  brief  ««o«ni 
atDouro. 


'if 


m 


TJTB  LAND-JOBBER. 


VSi 


lur  table  with) our 

Id  sit  down  at  the 
d  leave  the  house 
,    Sit  down  with  a 

here  will  be  any 

never  wish  to  go 
lugh  disdain. 
D  me  such  a  plausi- 
nature!    "WUch  is 
lowship — ignorance 
I  of  others  1 
le  now  a  frequent 
.  just  returned  from 
ly  and  was  delighted 
The  only  tlung  I 
e  of  interest,  was  a 
ling  his  brief  sc(ioiim 


CUAFTER  XII. 

THK   LAMD-JOBBKH. 
(u  inTUMSDura  mara,  wr  J.  w.  ».  mooom. 


1IIAD  a  letter  of  introduction  to  a  gentleman  of  large 
property,  at  C ,  who,  knowing  that  I  wished  to  pur- 

eha-ie  a  farm,  very  kindly  drove  me  out  to  several  lots  of  land    - 
in  the  immediate  neighbourhood.     He  showed  me  seven  or 
eight  very  eligible  lots  of  cleared  land,  some  of  them  with 
■ood  houses  and  orchards;  but  some  how  or  other,  on  inquiry, 
1  found  they  all  belonged  to  himself,  and,  moreover,  the  prices 
were  beyond  my  limited  means.    For  one  farm  he  asked 
JBIOOO;  for  another,  £1500,  aiJd  so  on.     After  inquiring  in 
other  quarters,  1  saw  1  had  no  chance  of  getting  a  farm  in 
thnt  neighbourhood  for  the  price  1  could  afford  to  pay  down, 
which  was  only  about  £300.    After  satisfying  myself  as  to 
this  fact,  I  thought  it  the  wiser  course  at  once  to  undeceive 
my  very  obliging  friend,  whose  attentions  were  obviously 
nicely  adjusted  to  the  estimate  he  l»d  formed  ui  his  own 
mind  of  my  pecuniary  resources.  ^ 

On  communicating  this  discouraging  fact,  my  friends 
countenance  instantly  assumed  a  cold  and  stony  expression, 
and  1  almost  expected  that  he  would  have  stopped  his  horses 
and  set  me  down,  to  walk  with  other  poor  men.  As  may 
well  be  supposed,  1  was  never  afterwards  honoured  with  a 
•eat  in  his  carriage  He  saw  just  what  1  was  worth,  and  1 
saw  what  his  friendship  was  worth;  and  thus  our  brief  ac 
quaintance  terminated. 


■^4 


9: 


# 


182  ROUOHINQ  IT  IN  THE  BVSB. 

Having  thu8  let  the  cat  out  oi  tne  oag,  when  I  might  a«> 
cording  to  the  usual  way  of  the  world,  have  sported  for  a  whde 
in  bor^wed  plumage,  a.id  rejoiced  in  the  reputation  of  bcmg 
in  more  prosperous  circumstances  without  fear  of  detection  I 
determined  to  pursue  the  same  course,  and  make  use  of  tl^ 
little  insight  I  had  obtained  inU,  U.e  w*,*  of  the  land-jobber 
of  Cana^  to  procure  a  cleared  farm  on  more  reasonable 

**"u'!8  not  uncommon  for  the  land  speculators  to  sell  a  farm 
to  a  respectable  settler  at  an  unusually  low  price,  m  or1.rj) 
give  a  character  to  a  neighbourhood  where  they  hold  oUl^ 
lands,  and  thus  to  use  him  as  a  decoy  duck  for  fnendi  « 

countrymen.  tu     O 

There  was  a  very  noted  character  at  0 ,  Mr.  vj 

a  great  land-jobber,  who  did  a  large  business  in  th«  way  oa 
his  own  account,  besides  getting  through  a  great  deal  of  du^y 
work  for  other  more  respectable  speculators,  who  did  not 
wish  to  drink  at  taverns  and  appear  personally  in  such  m«. 

ters.    To  Mr.  Q I  applied,  and  effected  a  pur<*ase  of  a 

form  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  acres,  about  fifty  of  which  wejre 
cleared,  for  jESOO,  as  I  shall  mention  more  particularly  in  the 
sequel.  In  the  mean  time,  the  character  of  this  distinguished 
todividual  wa^for  he  has  long  gone  io  give  an  account  of  his 
misdeeds  in  the  other  world-so  remarkable,  that  I  must  en- 
deavour to  describe  it  for  the  edification  of  the  reader.    Q— 

kept  a  shop,  or  store,  in  C ;  but  he  left  the  pnncpal 

minagement  of  this  establishment  to  his  clerks;  while,  taking 
advantage  of  the  influx  of  emigrants,  he  pursued,  with  un- 
rivalled  success,  the  profitable  business  of  land-jobbing. 

In  his  store,  before  taking  w  this  business,  he  bad  been 
««ustomed  for  many  years  to  retail  goods  to  the  farmers  at 
high  prices,  on  the  usual  long  credit  system.  He  had  thus 
g^t  a  number  of  farmers  deeply  in  his  debt,  and,  m  many 


rhen  I  might,  ao 
}rted  for  a  while 
tation  of  being 
of  detection,  I 
make  use  of  the 
the  land-jobbers 
more  reasonable 

ors  to  sell  n  fiurm 

price,  in  orjor  v 

e  they  hold  lAk  U 

ack  for  frlendi  M 

,  Mr.  Q ^ 

388  m  this  way  oa 
great  deal  of  dirty 
tors,  who  did  iK>t 
anally  in  such  mat- 
3d  a  purchase  of  a 
fifty  of  which  were 
)  particularly  in  the 
>f  this  distinguished 
ire  an  account  of  his 
ble,  that  I  must  en- 

bhe  reader.    Q 

>  left  the  principal 
erks ;  while,  taking 
pursued,  with  un- 
land-jobbing, 
liness,  he  had  been 
s  to  the  farmers  at 
tem.  He  had  thus 
lebt,  and,  in  many 


Tff£  LAyD-JOBBSU. 


18t 


casee,  in  preference  to  suing  them,  had  taken  mortgages  on 
their  farms.  By  this  means,  instead  of  merely  recovering  the 
money  owing  to  him  by  the  usual  process  of  law,  he  was  en> 
abled,  by  threatening  to  foreclose  the  mortgages,  to  compel 
them  to  sell  their  farms  nearly  on  his  own  terms,  whenever 
an  opportunity  occurred  to  re-sell  them  advantageously  to 
new  comers.  Thus,  besides  making  thirty  or  forty  per  cent 
on  his  goods,  he  often  realized  more  than  a  hundred  per  cent 
on  hid  land  speculations. 

In  a  new  country,  where  there  is  no  great  competition  in 
mercantile  business,  and  money  is  scarce,  the  power  and 

profits  of  store  keepers  are  very  great    Mr.  Q was  one 

of  the  most  grasping  of  this  class.  His  heart  was  case-hard< 
ened,  and  his  conscience  like  gum-elastic;  it  would  readily 
stretch,  on  the  shortest  notice,  to  any  required  extent,  while 
his  well-tutored  countenance  betrayed  no  indication  of  what 
was  passing  in  his  mind.  But  I  must  not  forget  to  give  a 
tiketch  of  the  appearance,  or  outward  man,  of  this  hi^ly- 
gifted  individual. 

He  was  about  the  middle  size,  thin  and  limber,  and  some- 
what loose  in  his  lower  joints,  like  most  of  the  native  Canadians 
and  Yankees.  He  had  a  slight  stoop  in  his  shoulders,  and  his 
long,  thin  neck  was  continually  stretched  out  before  him, 
while  his  restless  little  cunning  eyes  were  roaming  about  in 
search  of  prey.  His  fiu%,  when  well  watched,  was  ui  index 
to  his  selfish  and  unfeeling  soul.  Complexion  he  had  none, 
except  that  sempitemally  enduring  red-and-tawny  mixture 
which  is  acquired  by  exposure  and  hard  drinking.  His  cheeks 
and  the  comers  ok  his  eyes  were  marked  by  on  infinity  of 
curved  lines,  and,  like  most  avaricious  and  deceitful  men,  ho 
had  a  long,  crooked  chin,  and  that  peculiar  prominent  and 
sli^tly  aquiline  nose,  which,  by  people  observant  of  such 
indications,  has  I)een  called  "the  rogue's  nose."    But  how 


184 


BOUQUINQ  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


shall  I  describe  his  eye— that  small  hole  through  which  yon 

can  see  an  honest  man's  heart?    Q '*  eye  was  lilte  no 

other  eye  I  had  ever  seen.  His  face  and  mouth  could  assume 
,a  good-natured  expression,  and  smile ;  but  his  eye  was  stiU 
the  same — it  never  smiled,  but  remained  cold,  hard,  dry,  and 
inscrutable.  If  it  had  any  expression  at  all,  it  was  an  unhappy 
one.  Such  were  the  impressions  created  by  his  appearance, 
when  the  observer  was  unobserved  by  him ;  for  he  had  the 
•rt  of  concealing  the  worst  traits  of  his  character  in  an  ex- 
traordinary degree,  and  when  he  suspected  that  the  curious 
hieroglyphics  which  Nature  had  stamped  on  his  visage  were 
too  closely  scanned,  he  knew  well  how  to  divert  the  inves- 
tigator's attention  to  some  other  object. 

He  was  a  humorist,  besides,  in  his  way,  because  he  found 
that  jokes  and  ftin  admirably  served  his  turn.  They  helped 
to  throw  people  off  their  guard,  and  to  conceal  his  hang-dog 

look. 

He  had  a  hard  head,  as  well  as  a  hard  heart,  and  could 
stand  any  quantity  of  drink.  His  drinking,  however,  like 
every  thing  else  about  him,  had  a  motive ;  and,  instead  of 
trying  to  appear  sober,  like  other  drunkards,  he  rather  wished 
to  appear  a  little  elevated.     In  addition  to  his  other  acquire- 

ments,  Q was  a  most  accomplished  gambler.    In  short, 

no  virtuous  man,  who  employs  every  passing  moment  of  his 
short  life  in  doing  good  to  his  fellow-«reatures,  could  be  more 
devoted  and  energetic  in  his  endeavours  to  serve  God  and 

mankind,  than  Q was  in  his  endeavours  to  ease  them  of 

their  spare  cash. 

He  possessed  a  great  deal  of  that  free^ind-easy  address  and 
tact  which  distinguish  the  Canadians ;  and,  in  addition  to  the 
current  coin  of  vulgar  flattery  which  is  found  so  useful  in  all 
countries,  his  quick  eye  could  discover  the  high-minded  gen- 
tleman  by  a  kind  of  instinct,  which  did  not  seem  quite  natural 


TITE  LAND-JOBBER. 


1rt5 


rough  which  yoa 
eyo  was  like  no 
uth  co\ild  assume 
lis  eye  was  stiU 
d,  hard,  dry,  and 
t  was  an  unhappj 
y  his  appearance, 
;  for  he  had  the 
laracter  in  an  ex- 
that  the  curious 
n  his  visage  were 
divert  the  inves- 


because  he  found 
m.  They  helped 
ceal  his  hang-dog 


heart,  and  could 
ng,  however,  like 
;  and,  instead  of 
I,  he  rather  wished 

his  other  acquire, 
ambler.  In  short, 
ing  moment  of  his 
res,  could  be  more 
to  serve  God  and 
ra  to  ease  them  of 

d-eusy  address  and 
in  addition  to  the 
nd  so  useful  in  all 
3  high-minded  gen. 
seem  quite  natura] 


to  his  sordid  character;  and,  knowing  that  »uch  men  are  not 
to  be  taken  by  vulgar  adulation,  ho  «.ul.l  address  them  with 
deferential  respect;  against  which  no  minds  arc  entirely 
secure,  lln.s  he  wriggled  hin.seif  i.rto  their  good  graces. 
After  a  while  the  unfavourable  impression  occasioned  by  hm 
sinister  countenance  would  become  more  faint,  while  his  well- 
feigned  kindness  and  apparent  indulgence  to  his  numerous 
debtors,  would  tell  greatly  in  his  favour. 

My  first  impression  of  this  man  was  pretty  nearly  such  as 
I  have  described;  and,  Uiough  I  suspected  and  shunned  him  I 
was  shure  to  meet  him  at  every  turn.  At  length  this  unfa- 
vourable feeling  wore  off  in  some  degree,  and  fuidmg  him  in 
the  best  society  of  the  place,  I  began  to  think  that  his  counte- 
nance  belied  him,  and  I  reproached  myself  for  my  ungenerous 

suspicions.  , 

Feeling  a  certain  security  in  the  smallness  of  my  available 

capital,  I  did  not  hesitate  in  applying  to  Mr.  Q to  sell 

me  a  farm,  particularly  as  I.  was  aware  of  his  anxiety  to 

induce  me  to  settle  near  C ,  for  the  reasons  already  stated. 

I  told  him  that  £300  was  the  very  largest  sum  I  could  give 
for  a  farm,  and  that,  if  I  could  not  get  one  for  that  price, 
I  should  join  my  fHends  in  the  backwoods. 

Q ,  after  scratching  his  head,  and  considering  for  a  few 

minutes,  told  me  that  he  knew  a  farm  which  he  could  sell  me 
for  that  price,  particularly  as  he  wished  to  get  rid  of  a  set  of 
Yankee  rascals  who  prevented  emigrants  from  settling  in  that 
neighbourhood.  We  afterwards  found  that  there  was  but  too 
good  reason  for  the  character  he  gave  of  some  of  our  neigh- 

hours.  ,   ,       .      i 

Q held  a  mortgage  for  £150  on  a  farm  belonging  to  a 

certain  Yankee  settler,  named  Joe  H ,  as  security  for 

a  debt  incurred  for  goods  at  his  store,  in  C .    The  idea 

Instantly  struck  Q that  he  would  compel  Joe  H to 


'I 


180 


ROUOUIXO  IT  AV  77M'  if^W//. 


sell  him  his  fiirm,  by  threat  jning  to  foreclose  tf»o  mortgage.    I 

drove  out  with  Mr.  Q next  day  to  see  the  farm  In  (lue* 

tii.n.     It  was  situated  in  a  pretty  retired  valley,  surrounded 

by  hills,  about  eight  miles  from  C ,  atid  about  a  mile 

from  the  great  road  leading  to  Toronto,  'fliero  was  an  extcn- 
sive  orchard  upon  the  farm,  and  two  log  houses,  and  a  large 
frame  barn.  A  considerable  portion  of  the  cleared  land  wa« 
light  and  sandy ;  and  the  uncleared  part  of  the  farm,  situated 
on  the  flat,  rocky  summit  of  a  high  hill,  wiis  reserved  for  "  a 
sugar  bush,"  and  for  supplying  fuel.  On  the  whole,  I  was 
pleased  with  the  farm,  which  was  certainly  cheap  at  the  price 
of  i300 ;  and  I  therefore  at  once  closed  the  bargain  with  Mr. 

Q . 

At  that  time  I  had  not  the  slightest  idea  but  that  the  farm 
actually  belonged  to  the  land-jobber ;  and  I  am,  to  this  day, 
unable  to  tell  by  what  means  he  succeeded  in  getting  Mr. 

II to  part  with  his  property! 

The  father  of  Joe  II had  cleared  the  farm,  and  wliile 

the  soil  was  new,  it  gave  good  crops ;  but  as  the  rich  surface, 
or  "  black  muck,"  as  it  is  called,  became  exhausted  by  con- 
tinual  cropping,  nothing  but  a  poor,  meagre  soil  remain<.u. 

The  early  settlers  were  wretched  farmers  ;  they  never 
ploughed  deep  enough,  and  never  thought  of  manuring  the 
land.  After  working  the  land  for  several  years,  they  would 
let  it  lie  waste  for  three  or  four  years  without  sowing  grass- 
seeds,  and  then  plough  it  up  again  for  wheat.  The  greater 
part  of  the  hay  raised  on  these  farms  was  sold  in  the  towns, 
and  the  cattle  were  fed  during  the  long  severe  winter  on 
wheat-straw.  The  natural  result  of  this  poor  nourishment 
was,  that  their  cattle  continually  degenerated,  and  great  num. 
bers  died  every  spring  of  a  disease  called  the  "  hollow  horn," 
which  appears  to  be  peculiar  to  this  country.  When  the  lands 
became  sterile,  from   this  exhausting  treatment,  they  wcr« 


ill. 

B  t)^io  mortgage.  I 
the  farm  in  ((U0» 
alley,  surrouiulod 
and  abuiit  a  mile 
Itero  waH  an  extcn- 
louses,  and  a  large 
li  cleared  land  wa« 
the  fkrm,  HJtuatcd 
lis  reserved  for  "  a 
the  whole,  I  was 
cheap  at  the  price 
i  bargain  with  Mr. 

\  but  that  the  farm 

I  am,  to  this  day, 

led  in  getting  Mr. 

he  farm,  and  wlule 
as  the  rich  surface, 

exhausted  by  con- 
i  soil  remained, 
iners  ;   they  never 
t  of  manuring  the 

years,  they  would 
hout  sowing  grass- 
[leat.  The  greater 
3  sold  in  the  towns, 

severe  winter  on 

poor  nourishment 
ed,  and  great  num- 
the  "  hollow  horn," 
y.  When  the  lands 
atment,  they  wcr« 


TIIK  LAXh-JOHHEh. 


\m 


odicd  "  worn-out  farms ;"  and  the  owners  generally  sold  them 
to  new  settlers  from  the  old  country,  and  with  the  money 
they  received,  bought  a  larger  quantity  of  wild  lauds,  to  pro. 
vide  f(ir  th«ir  sons ;  by  whom  the  same  improvident  process 
was  recommenccil, 

Tliose  early  settlers  wopp,  in  fact,  only  fit  for  pioneers  to  a 
more  thrifty  class  of  self  h'l-s. 

Joe  H ,  or  "  Uncle  Joe,"  as  tlie  country  people  call 

any  acquaintance,  after  «  fashion  borrowed,  no  doubt,  from 
the  Dutch  settlers  of  the  State  of  New  York,  was,  neither  by 
his  habits  nor  industry,  likely  to  become  more  prosperous 
than  his  neighbours  of  the  same  thoughtless  class.    His  father 
had  worked  hard  in  his  time,  and  Uncle  Joe  thought  ho  had  a 
good  right  to  enjoy  himself.    The  nearest  village  was  only 
five  miles  from  his  place,  and  he  was  never  without  some 
excuse  for  going  thither  every  two  or  three  days.     His  horse 
wanted   shoeing,  or  his    plough   or  wagon  wanted  "to  be 
fixed"  by  the  blacksmith  or  carpenter.   As  a  matter  of  coiirae, 
he  came  home  "pretty  high;"  for  he  was  in  the  constant 
habit  of  pouring  a  half-tumbler  of  whiskey  down  his  throat, 
standing  bolt  upright  at  the  bar  of  the  tavern,  after  which  ho 
would  drink  about  the  same  quantity  of  cold  water  to  wash 
It  down.    These  habits,  together  with  bad  farming,  and  a 
lazy,  slovenly  helpmate,  in  a  few  years  made  Joe  as  poor  as 
he  could  desire  to  be ;  and  at  last  he  was  compelled  to  sell 

his  farm  to  Mr.  Q . 

After  we  had  got  settled  down  on  this  farm,  I  had  often 
occasion  to  drive  into  C ,  for  the  purpose  of  buying  gro- 
ceries and  other  necessaries,  as  we  then  thought  them,  at  the 

store  of  Mr.  Q .     On  these  occasions  1  always  took  up 

my  quarters,  for  the  time,  at  the  tavern  of  our  worthy  Yankee 

fViend,  Mr.  S As  I  drove  up  to  the  door,  I  generally 

found  S walking  about  briskly  on  the  boarded  platform, 


f 


188  BOUOniNO  IT  IN  THB  BUSR 

or  "  rtoop,"  in  front  of  the  house,  welcoming  his  guests  in  his 
own  peculiar  free^d^y  style,  looking  after  1je,r  horses, 
.ad  Lng  that  his  people  were  attentive  to  the.r  du  .^. 
I  think  1  see  him  now  before  me,  with  his  th.n,_  erect, 
lathy  figure,  his  snub  nose,  and  puckered-up  face,  wrigglmg 
lid  twSini  himself  about,  in  his  desire  to  please  h.s  cus- 

*°"orstopping  in  front  of  the  tavern,  shortly  after  our  settie- 

ment  on  the  farm,  Mr.  S stepped  up  to  me,  m  the  most 

familiar  mamier  imaginable,  holding  out  his  L  nd  quite  ^n- 
descendingly,-"  Ah,  Mister  Moodie.  ha-a-w  do  you  dol 
__har— a— w's  the  old  woman  T 

At  first  I  could  not  conceive  whom  he  meant  by  this  very 
homely  appellation ;  and  I  very  simply  asked  h.m  wha* 
person  he  dluded  t»,  as  I  had  no  old  woman  m  my  estalv 

lishment  .    ,_    «_, 

"Why  your  old  woman,  to  be  sure-your  missus-Mrs. 

Moodie,  I  guess.    You  don't  quite  undenrtand  our  language 

^*'*"o !  now  I  understand  you ;  she's  quite  well,  I  thank  you ; 

and  how  is  our  friend  Mrs.  S !"  I  replied,  laying  a  shght 

Iph^s  on  the  if«.,  by  way  of  a  gentle  hint  for  his  future 

^!?M^'  s ,  I  guess  she's  smart,  preUy  «w»iderable. 

She'll  be  right  glad  to  see  you,  for  you're  pretty  considerable 
of  a  Lu?i/«  with  her,  I  tell  you;  but  now  tell  me  what  you 
will  drlnlc^—for  it's  my /reafc" 

As  he  said  these  words,  he  strutted  into  the  tavern  before 
me,  throwing  his  head  and  shoulders  back,  and  nsing  on  his 

tiptoes  every  step.  ^,, 

^  M^  S had  been  a  very  hanosome  woman,  and  sttU 

retained  much  of  her  good  looks.    Shewaa.mprt  «emplaj7 
housewife  and  manager.    I  wa.  oft«  aatodahed  to  witaes. 


tiis  guests  in  hit 
er  thdr  horses, 

0  their  duties, 
his  tWn,  erect, 
,  face,  wriggling 

please  his  cus- 

after  our  settle- 
me,  in  the  most 
L  id  quite  con- 
— w  do  you  dol 

MUit  by  this  very 
lalied  him  what 
nan  in  my  estab- 

(ur  missus — ^Mrs. 
ind  our  language 

veil, I  thank  you; 
ed,  laying  a  slight 
unt  for  his  future 

it-ty  «)7?.»iderable. 

retty  considerable 

tell  me  what  you 

1  the  tavern  before 
;,  and  riring  on  his 

B  woman,  and  sdll 

a  moat  exemplary 

Mdahed  to  witneM 


TSS  LAim-JOBBEB. 


18» 


the  incessant  toil  she  had  to  endure  in  attenduig  to  the  wauta 
of  such  a  nimierous  household. 

She  had  plenty  of  Irish  "helps"  in  the  kitchen;  but  they 
knew  as  much  of  cookery  as  they  did  of  astronomy,  and  poor 
Mrs.  S  *8  hands,  as  well  as  her  head,  were  in  constant 
requisition. 

She  had  two  very  pretty  daughters,  whom  she  would  not 
suffer  to  do  any  rough  work  which  would  spoil  their  soft, 

white  hands.    Mrs.  S ,  no  doubt,  foresaw  that  she  could 

not  expect  to  keep  such  fair  creatures  long  in  such  a  marrying 
country  as  Canada,  and,  according  to  the  common  caution  of 
divines,  she  held  these  blesnngs  with  a  loose  hand. 

There  was  one  sweet  little  girl,  whom  I  had  often  seen  in 
her  father's  arms,  with  her  soft  dark  eyes,  and  her  long  auburn 
ringlets  hanging  in  wild  profusion  over  his  shoulders. 

"  I  guess  she  likes  pa,  «>m«,"  Mr.  S would  say  when  I 

remarked  her  fondness  for  him. . 

This  little  fwry  had  a  natural  genius  for  music,  and  though 
she  was  only  four  years  old,  she  would  sit  for  an  hour  at  a 
time  at  the  door  of  our  room  to  hear  me  play  on  the  flute, 
and  would  aftarwards  sing  all  the  airs  she  picked  up,  with  the 
sweetest  voice  in  the  world. 

Humble  as  the  calling  of  a  tavern-keeper  may  be  con- 
sidered  in  England,  it  is  looked  upon  in  the  United  States, 

where  Mrs.  S was  "raised"  as  extremely  respectable; 

and  I  have  never  met  with  women,  in  any  class  of  society 
elsewhere,  who  possessed  more  of  the  good  feeling  and  unob- 
trusive  manners  which  should  belong  to  ladies  than  in  tlie 
fiunily  of  this  worthy  tavern-keeper. 

When  I  contrast  their  genuine  kindness  and  humanity 
with  the  haughty,  arrogant  airs  assumed  by  some  ladies  of  a 
higher  standing  in  society,  from  England,  who  sojourned  ui 
their  house  at  the  same  time  with  ourselves,— when  I  rem«m 


.-J 


..-SSsAa 


•I -Ul ^  '-*-'■ 


"sev 


•^mPBOS^a 


190  HOUOmNQ  IT  IN  THE  BOSO. 

bep  their  in«»lent  way  of  giving  Aeir  order,  to  Mra^L    ^ 

Td  their  stai  more  wounding  ^nd^^^^^TiX^J^. 

not  but  feel  Mhamed  of  my  countrywomen,  f "^^^^ 

J^  aira,  I  doubt  not,  were  ««umed  P^P^-^^  *»  ^^^  ^^ 

•  ;ia  „f  thoM  worthy  people  with  an  idea  of  theu:  vast  a* 

"ritity  T^r^meS,  1  confer,  been  a  litUe  annoyed 

^He  fammarity  of  the  Americans,  Canada- -j;;^   - 

Y:;uees;  but  1  must  say  that  exp^.nce  ^  ^dVld- 

vi-™^  mvDAlf  at  least  as  much  as  them.    «,  ui»w»« 

augmented  by  ^^^f^l  -X^y  tr^^^      ^h^ 

uJte^st::;^:  to  (^Z^ey  wLd  receive  a  lesson 
Umted  States,  or  e  ^.^  ^  ^^^.  ^^^  ^^ 

or  two  which  would  be  or  m  .^  ^^^^  ^oon 

"^  H^l  tot«-e  the  remaricable  diversity  in  U.e  a. 

♦    ^n  bv  recent  emigrant*  to  this  country,  of  their 

,«unto  given  ^y  ^^^d  character  of  the  people, 

^  khi^  others  with  nothing  but  rudeness  and  brutal, 
r   S?t^  there  is  truth  in  both  account.;  but  str««e™ 
Z^  ^^^istocratical  countxy  do  not  usually  make  sufi^^ 
\ZJ!L  for  the  habit*  and  prejudices  of  a  people  of  a  land, 
to  wS^^m  the  comparatively  equal  distxibution  of  prop, 
erty   «i^e  certain  prosperity  at^dant  o„  mdus^y,^ 
destitution  of  society  is  necessarily  democrabcal,  ur*. 
ZSvTof  political  institutions.    Those  who  go  to  «^  a 
S^  with  Oie  notion  that  they  wUl  carry  every  ttong  ^ 
STby  means  of  pretence  «.d  ««imption,  w.    find  them. 
^es^Tv^y  dLived.    To  use  a  homely  illustration,  it 


TEX  LAND-JOBBER. 


101 


n 


B  to  Mrs. 
— ^I  oonfeflB  I  can* 
All  these  patron- 
sly  to  impress  the 
of  their  vast  su- 
a  little  annoyed 
ladians  as  well  as 
has  taitght  me  to 
If,  instead  of  send- 
of  Europe,  to  treat 
16  unpopularity  of 
lative  arrogance  is 
of  those  who  only 
were  sent  to  the 
uld  receive  a  lesson 
to  them;  some  of 
[iarittes  would  soon 
icracy. 

3  diversity  in  the  ao- 
lis  country,  of  their 
acter  of  the  people, 
ome  meet  with  con^ 
rudeness  and  brutal- 
ounts ;  but  strangers 
iually  make  sufiident 
>f  a  people  of  a  land, 
distribution  of  prop, 
iant  on  industry,  the 
Qy  democratical,  irre- 
)se  who  go  to  such  a 
rry  every  thing  before 
ptioB,  will  find  them* 
homely  illustrataoo,  it 


m  juat  as  irrational  to  expect  to  force  a  large  body  through  a 
■mall  aperture.  In  both  cases  they  will  meet  with  unyielding 
resistance. 

When  a  poor  and  industrious  mechanic,  fiirmer,  or  la 
bourer  comes  here  without  pretensions  of  any  kind,  no  such 
complaints  are  to  be  heard.  He  is  treated  with  respect,  and 
every  one  seems  willing  to  help  him  forward.  If  in  after  ytan 
the  manners  of  such  a  settler  should  grow  in  importance  with 
his  prosperity — which  is  rarely  the  case — ^his  pretonmona 
would  be  much  more  readily  tolerated  than  those  of  any  un 
known  or  untried  individual  in  a  higher  class  of  society. 

The  North  Americans  generally  are  much  more  disposed 
to  value  people  according  to  the  estimate  they  form  of  their 
industry,  and  other  qtialities  which  more  directly  lead  to  the 
acquisition  of  property,  and  to  the  benefit  of  the  community, 
than  for  their  present  and  actual  wealth.  While  they  pay  a 
certain  mock  homage  to  a  wealthy  immigrant,  when  they  have 
a  motive  in  doing  so,  they  secretly  are  more  inclined  to  look 
on  him  as  a  well-fledged  goose  who  has  come  to  America  to 
be  plucked.  In  truth,  many  of  them  are  so  dexterous  in  this 
operataon  that  the  unfortunate  victim  is  often  stripped  naked 
before  he  is  aware  that  he  has  lost  a  feather. 

There  seems  to  be  a  flitality  attending  riches  imported  into 
Canada.  They  are  sure  to  make  to  themselves  wings  and  flee 
away,  while  wealth  is  no  less  certain  to  adhere  to  the  poor  and 
faidustrious  settler.  The  great  fault  of  the  Canadian  charac 
ter  is  an  unwillingness  to  admit  the  just  claims  of  education 
and  talent,  however  unpretending,  to  some  share  of  considera- 
tion. In  this  respect  the  Americans  of  the  United  States  are 
greatly  superior  to  the  Canadians,  because  they  are  better 
educated  and  their  country  longer  settled.  These  genuine 
Bepublicans,  when  their  theory  of  the  original  and  natural 
•quality  amwig  them  is  <moe  dieerfuUy  admitted,  are  evw 


t 


'— ^j^.i,.,iM.ua..tJii!pL, 


W»|P 


103 


BouoBim  IT  or  the  bush. 


nady  to  show  respect  to  mtnial  superiority,  vhether  iwtonl 
or  acquired. 

My  evenings  on  viriting  C         were  usually  spent  at  Mr. 

S ^'s  tavern,  wliere  I  was  often  much  amused  witli  the  variety 

of  characters  who  were  there  assembled,  and  who,  from  the 
free-and-easy  familiarity  of  the  colonial  manners,  had  littl« 
chance  of  concealing  their  peculiarities  fivm  an  attentive  ob* 
server. 

Mr.  Q ,  of  course,  was  always  to  be  found  there,  drink- 

ing,  smoking  cigars,  and  cracking  jokes.  To  a  casual  observer 
he  appeared  to  be  a  regular  boon  companion,  without  an  ob> 
ject  but  that  of  enjoying  the  passing  hour.  Among  his  nu* 
merous  accomplishments,  he  had  leamtanumber  of  deight' 
oUiand  tricks  from  the  travelling  conjurors  who  visit  the 
country,  and  are  generally  willing  to  sell  their  secrets  singly, 
at  a  regulated  price.    Tliis  seemed  a  curious  investment  for 

Q ,  but  he  knew  how  to  turn  every  thing  to  account.    By 

such  means  he  was  enabled  to  contribute  to  the  amusement 
of  the  company,  and  thus  became  a  kind  of  favourite.  If  he 
oould  not  manage  to  sell  a  lot  of  land  to  an  immigrant  or 
qwoulator,  he  would  carelessly  propose  to  some  of  the  com> 
pany  to  have  a  game  at  whist  or  loo,  to  pass  the  time  away ; 
and  he  never  fiuled  to  conjure  most  of  their  money  into  his 
pockets. 

At  this  time  a  new  character  made  his  appearance  at 

C ^  a  Mr.  B ,  an  ikiglish  fiumer  of  the  true  yeoman 

breed.  He  was  a  short-legged,  long>bodied,  corpulent  little 
man.  He  wore  a  brown  coat,  with  amj^e  skirts,  and  a  vast 
expanse  of  vest,  with  drab-ooloured  smaU-dothes  and  gaiters. 

B was  a  jolly,  good-natured  looking  roan,  with  an  easy, 

blunt  manner  which  mi(^t  easily  pass  for  honesty. 

Q had  sold  him  a  lot  of  wild  land  iit  some  outoAth^ 

way  towi  ship,  by  making  Mr.  B believe  that  he  could 


,  whether  natand 

Uy  spent  at  Mr. 
1  with  the  variety 
^nd  who,  from  the 
nners,  had  little 
>  an  attentive  ob^ 

found  there,  drink- 

» a  casual  observer 

on,  without  an  ob* 

r.    Among  his  nu> 

number  of  sleight- 

!or8  who  virit  the 

heir  secrets  singly, 

ious  investment  for 

ing  to  account.    By 

B  to  the  amusement 

of  favourite.    If  he 

to  an  immigrant  or 

bo  some  of  the  com* 

MMs  the  time  away ; 

their  money  into  his 

his  appearance  at 
of  the  true  yeoman 
lied,  corpulent  little 
de  skirts,  and  a  vast 
l-dothes  and  gaiters. 
;  roan,  with  an  easy, 
r  honesty. 

d  ill  some  outof-th» 
tlieve  that  he  could 


THE  LAND-JOBBEK. 


193 


sell  it  again  very  soon,  with  a  handsome  profit.  Of  course 
his  bargain  was  not  a  good  one.  He  soon  found  from  its 
situation  that  the  land  was  quite  unsaleable,  there  being  no 
settlements  in  the  neigh1)ourhood.  Instead  of  expressing  any 
resentment,  he  fairly  acknowledged  that  Q was  his  mas- 
ter at  a  bargain,  and  gave  him  full  credit  for  his  address  and 
cunning,  and  quietly  resolved  in  his  own  mind  to  profit  by  the 
lenson  he  had  received. 

Now,  with  all  their  natural  acuteness  and  habitual  dexter> 
ity  in  such  matters,  the  Canadians  have  one  weak  point;  they 
are  too  ready  to  believe  that  Englishmen  are  made  of  money. 
All  that  an  emigrant  has  to  do  to  acquire  the  reputation  of 
having  money,  is  to  seem  quite  easy,  and  free  from  care  or 
anxiety  for  the  future,  and  to  maintun  a  certain  degree  of  re- 
serve in  talking  of  his  private  affiiirs.    Mr.  B perfectly 

understood  how  to  play  his  cards  with  the  land-jobber ;  and 
lus  fat,  jolly  physiognomy,  and  rustic,  provincial  manners  and 
accent,  greatly  asnsted  him  in  the  deception. 

Every  day  Q drove  him  out  to  look  at  different  fhrms. 

B  talked  carelessly  of  buying  some  "  large"  block  of 

land,  that  would  cost  him  some  £3000  or  £4000,  providing  ho 
could  only  find  the  kind  of  soil  he  particularly  liked  for  farm- 
ing purposes.    As  he  seemed  to  be  in  no  hurry  in  making  his 

selection,  Q determined  to  make  him  useful,  in  the  mean 

time,  in  promoting  his  views  with  respect  to  others.     He 

therefore  puffed  Mr.  B up  to  every  body  as  a  Norfolk 

fitrmer  of  huge  capital,  and  always  appealed  to  him  to  con- 
firm the  diaraoter  he  gave  of  any  farm  he  wished  to  sell  to  a 

new  comet.    B ^  on  his  side,  was  not  slow  in  playing  into 

Q  *s  hand  on  these  occasions)  and  without  bemg  at  all 
suspected  of  coUudon. 

In  the  evening,  Mr.  B would  walk  into  the  public  room 

of  the  tavern,  g^f^parendy  fhtigued  with  his  exertions  throuf^ 

9 


\ 


S 


194 


Bovonmo  rr  m  tub  bush. 


"%■ 


the  day ;  fliiig  himself  carelessly  on  a  sofa,  and  unbutton  his 
gaiters  and  the  Itnees  of  his  small-clothes.  He  tool(  little 
notice  of  any  body  unless  he  was  spoken  to,  and  his  whole 
demeanour  seemed  to  say,  as  plainly  as  words,  "  I  care  for 
nobody,  nobody  cares  for  me."  This  was  just  the  kind  of 
man  for  Q .  He  instantly  saw  that  he  would  be  an  invalu- 
able ally  and  coadjutor,  without  seeming  to  be  so.    When 

B  made  his  first  appearance  in  the  evening,  Q was 

seldom  at  the  tavern,  for  his  time  had  not  yet  come.  In  the 
mean  while,  B was  sure  to  be  drawn  gradually  into  con- 
versation by  some  emigrants,  who,  seeing  that  he  was  a  prac- 
tical farmer,  would  be  desirous  of  getting  his  opinion  respect- 
ing certain  farms  which  they  thought  of  purchasing.  There 
was  such  an  appearance  of  blunt  simplicity  of  character  about 
him,  that  most  of  these  inquirers  thought  he  was  forgetting 
his  own  interests  in  telling  them  so  much  as  he  did.  In  the 
oourseof  conversation,  he  would  mention  several  ikrms  he  had 
been  looking  at  with  the  intention  of  purchasing,  and  he  would 
particularly  mention  some  one  of  them  as  possessing  extraordi- 
nary advantages,  but  which  had  some  one  disadvantage  which 
rendered  it  ineligible  for  him ;  such  as  being  too  small,  a  cir- 
cumstance which,  in  all  probability,  would  recommend  it  to 
another  description  of  settler. 

It  is  hard  to  say  whether  Q was  or  was  not  deceived 

by  B ;  but  though  he  used  him  at  present  as  a  decoy,  he 

no  doubt  expected  ultimately  to  sell  him  some  of  his  fiirms, 

with  a  very  handsome  profit.     B ,  however,  whose  means 

wore  probably  extremely  small,  fought  shy  of  buying ;  and 

after  looking  at  a  number  of  farms,  he  told  Q that,  on 

mature  reflection,  he  thought  he  could  employ  his  capital  more 
profitably  by  renting  a  number  of  farms,  and  working  them 
in  tiie  English  manner,  which  he  felt  certain  would  answer 
•doinbly  in  Canada,  instead  of  sinking  his  capital  at  once  in 


THS  LAND-JOMBEH. 


IM 


nd  unbutton  Us 
He  took  little 
>,  and  his  whole 
rds,  "  I  care  for 
just  the  kind  of 
uld  be  an  invalu- 
>  be  so.    When 

ling,  Q was 

3t  come.    In  the 
adually  into  oon- 
fit  he  was  a  pnuv 
}  opinion  respect- 
irchasing.    There 
if  character  about 
le  was  foi^etting 
IS  he  did.    In  the 
eral  forms  he  had 
ing,  and  he  would 
isessing  extraordi- 
isadvantage  which 
g  too  small,  a  cir* 
recommend  it  to 

■  was  not  deceived 
ent  as  a  decoy,  he 
lome  of  his  farms, 
»ver,  whose  means 
y  of  buying ;  and 

»ld  Q that,  on 

)y  his  capital  more 
and  working  them 
tain  would  answev 
B  capital  at  once  b> 


die  purchase  of  lands.    Q was  fairly  caught ;  and  B 

hired  some  six  or  seven  forms  from  him,  which  he  woi  ked  for 
some  time,  no  doubt  greatly  to  his  own  advantage,  for  he 
neither  paid  rent  nor  wages. 

Occasionally,  other  land-speculators  would  drop  into  the 
tavern,  when  a  curious  game  would  be  played  between  Q— — 
and  them.    One  of  the  speculators  would  ask  another  if  he  did 
net  own  some  lAnd  in  a  particular  part  of  the  country,  as  he 
had  bought  some  lots  in  the  same  quarter,  without  seeing 
them,  and  would  like  to  know  if  they  were  good.    The  other 
would  answer  in  the  affirmative,  and  pretend  to  desire  to  pur 
chase  the  lots  mentioned.   The  former,  in  his  turn,  would  pre- 
tend  reluctance,  and  make  a  similar  offer  of  buying.    All  this 
cunning  manoeuvring  would  be  continued  for  a  time,  in  the 
hope  of  inducing  some  third  party  or  stranger  to  make  an 
offer  for  the  land,  which  would  be  accepted.   It  often  happened 
that  some  other  person,  who  had  hitherto  taken  no  part  in  the 
course  of  these  conversations,  and  who  appeared  to  have  no 
personal  interest  in  the  matter,  would  quietly  inform  the 
stranger  that  he  knew  the  land  in  question,  and  that  it  was  all 
of  the  very  best  quality. 

It  would  be  endless  to  describe  all  the  little  artifices  prao> 
tised  by  tiiese  speculators  to  induce  persons  to  purchase  from 
them. 

Besides  a  few  of  these  unprincipled  traders  in  land,  some 
of  whom  are  found  in  most  of  the  towns,  there  are  a  large 
number  of  land-speculators  who  own  both  wild  and  improved 
forms  in  all  parts  of  the  colony  who  do  not  descend  to  these 
discreditable  arts,  but  wait  quietly  until  their  lands  become 
valuable  by  the  progress  of  improvement  m  their  netghboui* 
hood,  when  they  readily  find  purchasers — or,  rather,.the  pur. 
chasers  find  the-n  out,  uid  obtain  tbeii  lands  at  reasonabl* 
prices. 


-1 


■J 


it'- 


ll 


1' 


IM  EOUOBINO  IT  IN  TBS  BUSB. 

In  1832  when  we  came  to  Canada,  a  great  .peculation  wm  ^ 
jTeirin  Upland,  of  the  U.  E.  (or  United  Empire)  L^ 
^  ir«m8  and  d«ughter.  of  theae  loyalints.  who  had 
?  dt  (SaTfrom  the  l4ed  States  at  the  time  of  the  revo- 
lutionary  war,  were  entitled  to  free  gnct.  of  lots  of  wUd  land^ 
Se?thZ  few  free  granU  of  land  ^^^^^^^^^^Jt 
W.  Government,  except  those  made  to  halfwf  «"  o^  ^*^» 
army  and  navy,  and  of  course  there  was  a  rapid  nse  m  the,r 

"' Almost  all  the  person,  entitled  to  such  grants  h*a  «ttl^ 

•ui«  ♦«  Uma  bv  the  purchase.    The  auppiy  oi  w.  "• 

Kntt  LL»ttb..-,  for  U»  icy.' -f-^-'PP'^':^ 
bL  PK,liOo  beyond  -U  P'eood'"'.  i"""  '""' °"T?  *°° 
Sole  ..  *.  »pi»>  of  *e  Pro,to»>,  "-'T^^J''  ^l 

•      ■       M-nvoBmuM.  during  ll>«e"ly*>y'»''™""'°"'^' 

S^L  SS^^ -*«"*-■ '^- -^  """^^ 

ible  "Quivers"  of  the  U.E.  Loyalists. 
*    Th?S^  the  bullc  of  the  speculators  bought  land,  at  hap- 
J^lrtain  parties  wh.  found  favour  »t jhe  Bovemm^t 
Xs^managedto  secure  the  best  lands  which  were  for  sal. 


I  vak 


TUB  LAyi>-JO£JtER, 


m 


speoulatioD 
d  Empire)  I»y- 
yalists,  who  \aA 
timeoftherevo- 
lots  of  wild  land, 
ade  by  the  Brit 
ayoflficere  of  the 
ftpid  rise  in  their 

rants  had  settled 
»nd  as  the  lai^J 
lada  had  cUefly 
olony,  they  were, 
if  their  lands,  and 
rhey  were  bought 
9d.  per  acre,  and 
rith  an  enormous 
ven  40».  per  acre, 

la,  it  was  a  tlung 
that  it  was  almost 
J  supply  of  U.  E. 
>Dg  time  seemed  to 
gees  appear  to  have 
most  of  those  who 
or  who  could  com- 
,  and  throve  prodi- 
days  of  the  colony, 
from  the  inexhaust- 

}ught  lands  at  hap- 
at  the  government 
wluch  were  for  sale 


or  location,  before  they  were  expose''  ^  fair  competition  at 
the  periodical  public  sales  in  the  diflc^nt  districts.  Thus  a 
large  portion  of  the  wild  lands  in  the  colony  were  and  are  still 
held :  tiie  absentee  proprietors,  profiting  from  the  increased 
value  given  to  their  property  by  the  improvements  of  the 
actual  settlers,  while  they  contribute  little  or  nothing  to  the 
cultivation  of  the  country.  The  progress  of  the  colony  has 
thus  been  retarded,  and  its  best  interests  sacrificed,  to  gratify 
tiie  insatiable  cupidity  of  a  clique  who  boasted  the  exclusive 
possession  of  all  the  loyalty  in  the  country  ;  and  every  inde- 
pendent  man  who  dared  to  raise  his  voice  against  such  abuses 
was  branded  as  a  Republican. 

Mr.  Q dealt  largely  in  these  "  U.  E.  Rights,"  as  they 

were  called,  and  so  great  was  the  emigration  in  1832  that  the 
lands  hfr  bought  at  2».  M.  per  acre  he  could  readily  sell  again 
to  emigrants  and  Canadians  at  from  5s.  to  15».  per  acre,  accord- 
ing  to  situation,  and  the  description  of  purchasers  he  met  with. 
I  have  stated  that  the  speculators  generally  buy  lands  at  hap- 
hazard. By  tWs  I  mean  as  to  tiie  quality  of  tiie  lands.  All 
colonists  accustomed  to  observe  the  progress  of  settiement, 
and  the  local  advantages  which  hasten  improvement,  acquire 
a  peculiar  sagacity  in  such  matters.  Unfortunately  for  many 
old  countrymen,  thfey  are  generally  entirely  destitute  of  tiiis 
kind  of  knowledge,  which  is  only  acquired  by  long  observation 
and  experience  in  colonies. 

The  knowledge  of  the  causes  which  promote  the  rapid  set^ 
tlement  of  a  new  country,  and  of  those  in  general  which  lead 
to  the  improvement  of  the  physical  condition  of  mankind,  may 
be  compared  to  the  knowledge  of  a  language.  The  inhabitant 
of  a  civilized  and  long-settled  country  may  speak  and  write 
his  own  language  with  the  greatest  purity ;  but  very  few  ever 
reflect  on  the  amount  of  thought,  metaphor,  and  ingenuity 
which  have  been  expended  by  their  less  civilized  ancestors  in 


i 

if 


\ 


196  BOUOHINO  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 

bringing  that  language  to  perfection.  The  barbarian  first  feeli 
the  disadvantage  of  a  limited  means  of  communicating  hia 
ideas,  and  with  great  labour  and  Ingenuity  devises  the  means, 
frcm  time  to  time,  to  remedy  the  imperfections  of  his  language 
He  is  compelled  to  analyze  and  study  it  in  its  first  elements, 
and  to  augment  the  modes  of  expression  in  order  to  keep  pace 
with  the  increasing  number  of  his  wants  and  ideas. 

A  colony  bears  the  same  relation  to  an  old-settled  country 
that  a  grammar  does  to  a  language.     In  a  colony,  society  is 
seen  in  its  first  elements,  the  country  itself  is  in  its  rudest  and 
simplest  form.    The  colonist  knows  them  in  this  primitive 
state,  and  watches  th«lr  progress  step  by  step.     In  this  man- 
ner  he  acquii-es  an  intimate  knowledge  of  the  philosophy  of 
improvement,  which  is  almost  unattainable  by  an  individual 
who  has  liverl  from  his  childhood  in  a  highly  complex  and 
artificial  state  of  society,  where  every  thing  around  him  was 
formed  and  ananged  long  before  he  came  into  the  world ;  he 
sees  the  «/«^,  the  eause$  existed  long  before  his  time.     Hi« 
place  in  society-hU  portion  of  the  wealth  of  the  country- 
his  prejudices-his  religion  itself,  if  he  has  any,  are  all  more 
or  less  hereditary.    He  is  in  some  measure  a  mere  machine 
or  rather  a  part  of  one.    He  is  a  creature  of  education,  rather 
than  of  original  thought. 

The  colonist  has  to  create-he  has  to  draw  on  his  own 
«tock  of  ideas,  and  to  rouse  up  all  his  latent  energies  to  meet 
all  his  wants  in  his  new  position.  Thus  his  thinking  principle 
is  strengthened,  and  he  is  more  energetic.  When  a  moderate 
share  of  education  is  added  to  these  advantages-for  they  are 
advantages  in  one  sense— he  becomes  a  superior  being. 

I  have  indulged  in  these  reflections,  with  manifest  nsk  of 
being  thought  somewhat  prosy  by  my  more  lively  readers,  in 
order  to  guard  my  countrymen,  English,  Scotch,  and  Insli, 
against  a  kind  of  presumption  which  is  exceedingly  common 


THE  LAND-JOBBER. 


TT 


rbariaii  first  feeb 
immunicating  hii 
eviscs  the  means. 
M  of  his  language, 
its  first  elements, 
rder  to  keep  pace 

ideas. 

Id-settled  country 
colony,  society  is 
i  in  its  rudest  and 

in  this  primitive 
tep.  In  this  man- 
the  philosophy  of 
)  by  an  individual 
ighly  complex  and 
;  around  him  was 
nto  the  world ;  he 
are  his  time.  His 
1  of  the  country — 
\  any,  are  all  more 
«  a  mere  machine, 
>f  education,  rather 

I  draw  on  his  own 
It  energies  to  meet 
}  thinking  principle 
When  a  moderate 
tages — for  they  are 
perior  being, 
h  manifest  risk  of 
re  lively  readers,  in 
,  Scotch,  and  Irisli, 
Kceedingly  common 


among  them  when  they  come  to  Canada — of  fancying  ll»t> 
they  are  as  capable  of  forming  correct  opinions  on  local  irw**- 
ters  as  the  Canadians  themselves.  It  is  always  somewhat 
humbling  to  our  self-love  to  be  compelled  to  confess  what 
may  be  considered  an  error  of  judgment,  but  my  desire  tc 
guard  fiiture  settlers  against  similar  mistakes  overpowers  my 
reluctance  to  own  that  I  fell  into  the  common  error  of  many 
of  my  coimtrymen,  of  purchasing  wild  land,  on  speculation, 
with  a  very  inadequate  capital.  This  was  one  of  the  chief 
causes  of  much  suffering,  in  which  fur  many  years  my  family 
became  involved ;  but  through  which,  supported  by  trust  in 
Providence,  and  the  energy  of  a  devoted  partner,  I  continued 
by  her  aid  to  struggle,  until,  when  least  expected,  the  light  of 
hope  at  length  dawned  upon  us. 

In  reflecting  on  this  error— for  error  and  imprudence  It 
was,  even  though  the  result  had  been  fortunate — I  have  still 
this  poor  comfort,  that  there  was  not  one  m  a  hundred  of  per- 
sons  similarly  situated  but  fell  into  the  same  mistake,  of 
trusting  too  much  to  present  appearances,  without  sufficient 
experience  in  the  country. 

I  had,  as  I  have  already  stated,  about  £300  when  I  arrived 
in  Canada.  This  sum  was  really  advantageously  invested  in 
a  cleared  fkrm,  which  possessed  an  intrinsic  and  not  a  merely 
speculative  value.  Afterwards  a  small  legacy  of  about  £700 
fell  into  my  hands,  and  had  I  contented  myself  with  this  farm, 
and  purchased  two  adjoining  cleared  farms,  containing  two 
hundred  acres  of  land  of  the  finest  quality  which  were  sold 
far  below  their  value  by  the  thriftless  owners,  I  should  have 
done  well,  or  at  all  events  have  invested  my  money  profitably. 
But  the  temptation  t>  buy  wild  land  at  5«.  an  acre,  which 
was  expected  to  double  in  value  in  a  few  months,  with  the 
example  of  many  instances  of  similar  speculation  proving  suo. 
ee88/\il  which  came  under  my  notice,  proved  irresistible. 


"i 


'-? 


im  sovarnxo  it  i.v  the  rusut. 

In  1832  oniijrrution  woh  just  at  its  height,  and  s  rfmI 
runibor  of  emigrants,  several  of  whom  were  of  the  higher 
class  and  posHcssed  of  considerable  oa,,ital,  were  direett-d  t.. 

the  town  of  C ,  in  the  roar  of  which  extensive  trwis  of 

land  were  ofTered  to  scttlcn,  at  the  provincial  Kovemm.-M 
■ales     Had   this  extensive   emigration   continued,  1  shoiil-l 
have" been  enabled  to  double  n.y  capital,  by  selling  my  wild 
lands  to  settlers ;  but,  unfortunately,  the  prevalence  of  cholera 
during  that  year,  and  other  causes,  gave  such  a  serious  cheek 
to  cmigrali<.n  to  Canada  that  it  has  never  been  renewed  t<Uho 
same  extent  since  that  time.     Besides  the  chance  of  a  check 
to  emigration  generally,  the  influx  of  strangers  is  often  ex- 
tremely  capricious  in  the  direction  it  takes,  flowing  one  year 
into  one   particular  locality,  and  afterwards  into  another. 
Both  these  results,  neither  of  which  was  foreseen  by  any  one 
unfortunately  for  me,  ensued  just  at  that  time.     It  seemed 
natural  that  emigrants  should  flow  into  a  fertile  tract  of  land, 
and  emigration  was  confidently  expected  steadily  to  increase ; 
these  were  our  anticipations,  but  neither  of  them  was  realized. 
Were  it  suitable  to  the  character  of  these  sketches,  I  would 
enter  into  the  subject  of  emigration  and  the  progress  of  im- 
provement in  Canada,  respecting  which  my  judgment  has  been 
matured  by  experience  and  observation  ;  but  such  considera- 
tions  would  be  out  of  place  in  volumes  like  the  present,  and  I 
shall  therefore  proceed  with  my  narrative. 

1  had  obtained  my  cleared  farm  on  easy  terms,  and,  in  so 
far  as  the  probability  of  procuring  a  comfortable  subsistence 
waa  concerned,  wo  had  no  reason  to  complain  ;  but  comfort 
and  happiness  do  not  depend  entirely  on  a  sufficiency  of  the 
necessaries  of  life.  Soir.e  of  our  neighbours  were  far  from 
being  agreeable  to  us.  Being  fresh  from  England,  it  could 
hardly  be  expected  that  we  could  at  once  accommodate  our- 
selves  to  the  obtnisive  familiarity  of  persons  who  had  no  con 


TEE  LAND  JOBBER. 


201 


ht,  Rnfl  a  RrMt 
•0  of  the  higher 
were  (lirerttil  to 
fiiHive  tracts  of 
ciiil  guveniiiK'in 
tinuvd,  1  shoiil'l 
Belling  my  wild 
alonco  of  cholera 
h  a  serious  check 
jn  renewed  t«  the 
hance  of  a  check 
gcrs  is  often  ex- 
flowing  one  year 
■ds  into  another, 
jseen  by  any  one, 
time.     It  seemed 
rtilc  tract  of  land, 
■lulily  to  increase; 
ihcni  was  realized. 
I  sketches,  I  would 
e  progress  of  im- 
judgment  has  been 
ut  such  considera- 
I  the  present,  and  I 

\f  terms,  and,  in  so 
brtable  subsistence 
plain ;  but  comfort 
a  sufficiency  of  the 
mrs  were  far  from 
I  England,  it  could 
)  accommodate  our- 
ma  who  had  no  con 


oeption  of  any  diflTerences  in  taste  or  manners  arising  from 
education  and  habits  ac(|uired  in  a  more  rofincd  state  of 
society.  I  allude  more  particulariy  to  some  rude  and  demor- 
alized*  American  fiirmcrs  ft-om  the  l?nitod  States,  who  lived 
in  our  iinniedi.ite  neighbourhood.  Other  neighbouni  from  the 
same  country  wore  worthy,  industiioim  people ;  biit,  on  the 
whole,  the  evil  greatly  predominated  over  the  good  amongst 

them. 

At  ft  few  miles'  distance  from  our  farm,  we  had  some  In- 
telligcnt  Knglish  neighbours,  of  a  higher  class ;  but  they  were 
always  so  busily  occupied  with  their  farming  operations,  that 
they  had  little  leisure  or  inclination  for  that  sort  of  easy  inter 
course  to  which  wo  had  been  accustomed.     If  we  called  in 
the  forenoon,  we  generally  found  our  neighboJir  hard  at  work 
in  the  fields,  and  his  wife  over  head  and  ears  in  her  domestic 
occupations.    We  had  to  ring  the  bell  repeatedly  before  we 
could  gain  admittance,  to  allow  her  time  to  change  her  ordi- 
nary  dress.     Long  before  this  could  be  effected,  or  we  could 
enter  the  door,  sundry  reconnoitring  parties  of  the  children 
would  peep  at  us  round  the  comers  of  the  house,  and  then 
scamper  off  to  make  their  reports. 

It  was  strange  that  sensible  people  should  not  at  once  see 
the  necessity  of  accommodating  their  ha\>its  to  their  situation 
and  circumstances,  and  receive  their  friends  without  appear- 
ing  to  be  ashamed  of  their  employments.    This  absurdity, 
however,  is  happily  confined  to  the  would-be-genteel  people  in 
the  country,  who  visit  in  the  towns,  and  occasionally  arc  am- 
bitious enough  to  give  large  parties  to  the  aristocracy  of  the 
towns.   The  others,  who  do  not  pretend  to  vie  with  the  towns- 
people in  such  follies,  are  a  great  deal  more  easy  and  natural 
in  their  manners,  and  more  truly  independent  and  hospitable. 
Now  that  we  are  better  acquainted  with  the  country,  we 
much  prefer  the  conversation  of  the  intelligent  and  unpr» 

9* 


902 


BOUQHINO  IT  IN  THE  BOSH. 


tending  clasa  of  farmers,  who,  though  their  education  has  becft 
limited,  often  possess  a  rich  fund  of  strong  common  sense 
and  liberality  of  sentimeat,  and  not  unfrequently  great  ob- 
servation  and  originality  of  mind.  At  the  period  I  refer  to,  a 
number  of  the  American  settlers  from  the  United  States,  who 
composed  a  considerable  part  of  the  population,  regarded 
British  settlers  with  an  intense  feelmg  of  disUlte,  and  found  • 
P  pleasure  in  annoying  and  insulting  them  when  any  occasion 

offered.  They  did  not  understand  us,  nor  did  we  them,  and 
they  generally  mistook  the  reserve  wWch  is  common  with  the 
Britiah  towards  strangers  for  pride  and  superciliousness. 

»  You  Britishers  are  too  mperstitioua^  one  of  them  told 
me  on  a  particular  occaaon. 

It  was  some  time  before  I  found  out  what  he  meant  by  the 
term  *"  aupersHUous,''  and  that  it  was  generally  used  by  them 
for  "  supercilious." 

New  settlers  of  the  lower  classes  were  then  in  the  habit  of 
imitating  their  rudeness  and  familiarity,  which  they  mistook 
for  independence.  To  a  certain  extent,  this  feeling  still  exists 
amongst  the  working  class  from  Europe,  but  they  have  learnt 
to  keep  it  within  prudent  bounds  for  their  own  sakes;  and  the 
higher  class  have  learnt  to  moderate  their  pretensions,  whidi 
will  not  be  tolerated  here,  where  labourers  are  less  dependent 
on  them  for  employment  The  character  of  both,  classes,  in 
&ct,  has  been  altered  very  much  for  the  better,  and  a  better 
and  healthier  feeling  exists  between  them— much  more  so,  in- 
deed, than  in  England. 

The  labouring  class  come  to  this  country,  too  often,  with 
the  idea  that  the  higher  class  are  their  tyrants  and  oppress, 
ors;  and,  with  a  feeling  akin  to  revenge,  they  are  often  in- 
clined  to  make  their  employers  ia  Canada  suffer  in  their  turn. 
This  feeling  is  the  ^ect  of  certwn  depresdng  causes,  often  re- 
mote and  beyond  the  reach  of  legislation,  but  no  less  real  <« 


a 


ucatkm  has  beaft 
oonunon  seoM 
(uently  great  ob- 
iriod  I  refer  to,  a 
1  States,  who 
.tion,  regarded 
ike,  and  found  a 
hen  any  occasioa 
did  we  them,  and 
common  with  the 
rciliousness. 
i)ne  of  them  told 

t  he  meant  by  the 
lly  used  by  them 

len  in  the  habit  of 
hich  they  mistook 
feeling  still  exists 
t  they  have  learnt 
wn8ake8;aDd  the 
pretensions,  whidi 
tre  less  dependent 
[>f  both'  classes,  in 
Btter,  and  a  better 
much  more  so,  in- 

ry,  too  often,  with 
ants  and  oppress, 
they  are  often  in- 
iifier  hi  their  turn, 
g  causes,  often  re- 
nt no  leas  real  <« 


Mijiiiiijii  i.m^i 


TlfB  LAND-JOBBKH. 


9M 


that  account ;  and  just  in  proportion  to  the  degree  of  pc/rertj 
and  servility  which  exists  among  the  labouring  class  in  ths 
particular  part  ^  the  United  Kingdom  from  which  tiiey  oome^ 
will  be  the  reaction  here.  When  emigrants  have  been  some 
years  settled  in  Canada,  they  find  out  their  particular  and  just 
position,  as  well  as  their  duties  and  interests,  and  then  they 
begin  to  feel  truly  happy. 

The  fermentation  arising  from  the  strange  nuxture  of  di» 
eordant  elements  and  feelings  gradually  subsides,  but  untfl 
this  takes  place,  the  state  of  sodety  is  any  thing  but  agreeable 
or  satisfactory. 

Such  was  its  state  at  C ,  in  1833 ;  and  to  us  it  was  ■» 

distasteful,  that  though  averse,  for  various  reasons,  to  com 
menoe  a  new  settlement,  we  began  to  listen  to  the  persuasions 

of  our  frieuds,  who  were  SAttied  in  the  township  of  D ^ 

about  forty  miles  from  C ,  and  who  were  naturally  anx 

ious  to  induce  us  to  settle  among  them. 

Mrs.  Moodio's  brother,  S-^^ — ,  had  recently  formed  a  sei 
tlement  in  that  township,  and  just  before  our  arrival  in  Canada, 
had  beoi  joined  by  an  old  brother-officer  and  countryman  of 

mine,  Mr.  T ,  who  was  married  to  Mrs.  Moodie's  sister. 

Hw  latter,  who,  like  myself,  was  a  half-pay  oflioer,  had  pur 
diased  a  lot  of  wild  land,  dose  to  the  farm  occupied  by  S        ■. 

Mr.  S S had  emigrated  to  Canada  wUIe  quite  a 

youth,  and  was  thoroughly  acquunted  with  the  backwoods^ 
and  with  the  use  of  the  f>i)lling-axe,  which  he  wielded  with  all 
the  ease  and  dexterity  of  a  native. 

I  had  already  paid  som«  flying  visits  to  the  backwoods,  and 
bund  the  state  of  society,  though  rude  and  rough,  more  ooii> 
j^eoial  to  our  European  tastes  and  habits ;  for  several  gentle- 
'  nen  of  liberal  education  were  settled  in  the  neighbourhood, 
umong  whom  there  was  a  constant  interdiange  of  visits  and 
good  offices.    All  these  gentlemen  had  recently  arrived  tma> 


\h 


iMM  Bouanmo  rr  m  thb  simn. 

England,  Ireland,  or  Scotland,  and  all  the  labouring  daas  wen 
also  fresh  from  the  old  country,  and  consequently  very  little 
change  had  taken  place  in  the  manners  or  feelings  of  either 
dasB.  There  we  felt  we  could  enjoy  the  society  of  those  who 
could  sympathize  with  our  tastes  and  prejudices,  and  who, 
from  inclination  as  well  as  necesmty,  were  inclined  to  aaast 
each  other  in  their  farming  operations. 

Tliere  is  no  rituation  in  which  men  feel  more  the  neoessi^ 
of  mutual  assistance  than  in  clearing  land. 

Alone,  a  man  may  fell  the  trees  on  a  considerable  extent 
of  woodland ;  but  without  the  assistance  of  two  or  three  oth- 
ers, he  cannot  pile  up  the  logs  previous  to  burning.  Common 
labourers  and  common  difficulties,  as  among  comrades  during 
A  campaign,  produce  a  social  unity  of  feeling  among  back- 
woodsmen. Iliere  is,  moreover,  a  peculiar  charm  in  the  ex- 
citement of  improving  a  wilderness  for  the  benefit  of  children 
and  posterity ;  there  is  in  it,  also,  that  consciousness  of  use- 
fiilness  which  forms  so  essential  an  ingredient  in  true  happi- 
ness.  Every  tree  that  &lls  beneath  the  axe  opens  a  wider 
prospect,  and  encourages  the  settler  to  persevere  in  his  eflbrts 
to  attain  independence. 

Mr.  S had  secured  for  me  apportion  of  the  military 

grant  of  four  hundred  acres,  which  I  was  entitled  to  as  a  hal^ 
pay  officer,  in  his  immediate  neighbourhood.  Though  this  por- 
tion amounted  to  only  sixty  acres,  it  was  so  fhr  advantageous 
to  me  as  being  in  a  settled  part  of  the  country.  I  bought  » 
clergy  reserve  of  two  hundred  acres,  in  the  rear  of  the  sixty 
acres,  for  £1  per  acre,  for  which  immediately  afterwards  I 
was  offered  £2  per  acre,  for  at  that  period  there  was  such  an 
Influx  of  settlers  into  that  locality  that  lands  had  risen  rapidly 
to  a  fictitious  price.  1  had  also  purchased  one  hundred  acres 
moie  for  £1  10*.  per  acre,  fVom  a  private  individual ;  thiw 
also  was  considered  cheap  at  the  time. 


MiiMiiiilp 


ring  clnas  wen 
ntly  very  little 

ings  of  either 
y  of  those  who 

ices,  and  who, 
dined  to 


re  theneoenitj 

idemble  extent 
TO  or  three  otb 
ing.  Commou 
omrades  during 
g  among  back* 
iharm  in  the  ex- 
lefit  of  children 
ousness  of  use- 
t  in  true  happi- 
1  opens  a  wider 
are  in  his  eflbrts 

of  the  military 
Jed  to  as  a  hal^ 
lliough  this  por. 
ur  advantageous 
y.  I  bought  a 
ear  of  the  sixty 
ly  afterwards  I 
»re  was  such  an 
ad  risen  rapidly 
e  hundred  acres 
individual;  this 


THE  I AND-JOBBER. 


205 


mtmrnim 


These  lots,  foi-niing  ultogelher  a  compacc  farm  of  tluv« 
hundred  and  bixly  acres,  were  situated  on  the  sloping  banlis 
of  a  beautiful  lalce,  or,  rather,  expansion  of  the  river  Otoua- 
bee,  about  half-a-mile  wide,  and  studded  with  woody  islets. 
From  tlua  lalie  1  afterwards  procured  many  a  good  meal  for 
my  little  family,  when  all  other  means  of  obtaining  food  had 
failed  us.  I  thus  secured  a  tract  of  land  which  was  amply 
■uflioient  for  the  comfortable  subsistence  of  a  family,  had 
matters  gone  well  with  me. 

It  should  be  distinctly  borne  in  mind  by  the  reader,  that 
uncleared  land  in  a  remote  situation  from  markets  possesses, 
properly  speaking,  no  intrinsic  value  like  cleared  land,  for  a 
great  deal  of  labour  or  money  must  be  expended  before  it 
can  be  made  to  produce  any  thing  to  sell.  My  half  pay, 
which  amounted  to  about  £100  per  annum  of  Canadian  cur- 
rency, was  sufficient  to  keep  us  supplied  with  food,  and  to  pay 
for  clearing  a  certain  extent  of  land,  say  ten  acres  every  year, 
for  wheat,  which  is  immediately  afterwards  sown  with  grass- 
seeds  to  supply  hay  for  the  cattle  during  winter.  Unfortu- 
nately, at  this  period,  a  great  change  took  place  in  my  circum- 
stances, which  it  was  impossible  for  the  most  prudent  or  cau- 
tious to  have  foreseen. 

An  intimation  from  the  War-office  appeared  in  all  the 
newspapers,  calling  on  half-pay  officers  either  to  sell  their 
commissions  or  to  hold  themselves  in  readiness  to  join  some 
regiment.  This  was  a  hard  alternative,  as  many  of  these  offi- 
cers were  situated;  for  a  great  many  of  them  had  been 
tempted  to  emigrate  to  Canada  by  the  grants  of  land  which 
were  offered  them  by  government,  and  had  expended  all  their 
means  in  improving  these  grants,  which  were  invariably  pven 
to  them  in  remote  situations,  where  they  were  worse  than 
voithlesa  to  any  class  of  settlers  but  those  who  could  com- 


I-  2oe  Houamso  it  in  tus  bosr. 

inond  suflRcient  labour  in  their  own  families  to  make  tiw 
necessary  dfeariiigs  and  Improvements. 

Rather  than  sell  my  twmmission,  I  would  at  once  hiTH 
made  up  my  mind  to  ioin  a  regiment  in  any  part  of  thn 
world ;  but,  when  I  came  to  think  of  the  matter,  1  recollected 
^  1^  that  the  expense  of  an  outfit,  and  of  removing  my  family- 

to  say  nothing  of  sacrificing  my  property  in  the  colony- 
would  render  it  utterly  impossible  for  me  to  accept  this  un- 
pleasant  alternative,  after  being  my  own  master  for  eighteen 
years,  and  after  effectually  getting  rid  of  all  the  habits  which 
render  a  military  life  attractive  to  a  young  man.  Under 
these  circumstances,  1  too  hastily  determined  to  sell  out  of 
the  army.  Tliis,  of  course,  was  easily  managed.  I  expect  2d 
to  get  about  jCOOO  for  my  commission ;  and,  before  the  trans- 
action  was  concluded,  1  was  inquiring  anxiously  for  some 
„.ode  of  investing  the  proceeds,  so  as  to  yield  a  yearly 

income.  •       •»u  %*- 

Unfortunately,  as  it  turned  out,  I  mad(Mi  bargain  with  Mr. 

Q fur  twenty-five  shares,  of  £25  each,  in  a  fine  steamer, 

which  had  just  been  built  at  C ,  and  which  was  expected 

to  pay  at  least  twenty-five  per  cent,  to  the  shareholders. 

This  amount  of  stock  Q offered  me  for  the  proceeds  of 

my  commission,  whatever  amount  it  might  be  sold  for;  offer- 
ing  at  the  same  time  to  return  all  he  should  receive  above 
£m  sterling.  As  I  had  nothing  but  his  word  for  this  part 
of  the  agreement,  he  did  not  recollect  it  when  he  obtained 
jCroO,  which  was  £100  more  than  I  expected.  Some  boats 
on  Lake  Ontario,  while  the  great  emigration  lasted,  and  there 
was  less  competition,  yielded  more  than  thirty  per  cent. ;  and 
Aere  seemed  then  no  reason  to  doubt  tjiat  the  new  boat 
would  be  equally  profitable. 

It  is  possible  that  Q foresaw  what  actually  happened ; 

or,  more  probably,  he  thought  he  could  employ  his  mrmoy 


THE  LAND-JOBBER. 


w\ 


to  make  Um 

at  once  hrir* 

ly  part  of  tbn 

ir,  I  recollected 

my  family^ 

the  colony — 

accept  this  un- 

ter  for  eighteen 

lie  habits  which 

man.     Uu9cr 

to  sell  out  of 

sd.     I  expectod 

>efure  the  trons- 

ously  for  some 

yield  a  yearly 

targain  with  Mr. 
I  a  fine  steamer, 
ch  was  expected 
he  shareholders, 
the  proceeds  of 
3  sold  for;  ofier- 
1  receive  above 
ord  for  this  part 
hen  he  obtained 
id.  Some  boats 
lasted,  and  there 
f  per  cent. ;  and 
It  the  new  boat 

bually  happened  - 
iploy  his  m/moy 


better  in  land  speculations.  As  soon  as  the  stcnmei  began  to 
run,  a  quarrel  took  place  between  the  shareholders  who  resi- 
ded at  C ,  where  she  was  built,  and  those  who  lived  at 

the  capital  of  the  Upper  Province — York,  as  it  was  then  called. 
Hie  consequence  was  that  she  remained  idle  a  long  time,  and 
At  last  she  came  under  the  entire  control  of  the  shareholdeis 
•t  York,  who  managed  the  boat  as  they  liked,  and  to  suit 
their  own  interests.  Afterwards,  though  the  boat  continued 
to  be  profitably  employed,  some  how  or  other  all  her  earnings 
were  consumed  in  repairs,  dec,  and  for  several  years  I  never 
received  a  penny  for  my  shares.  At  last  the  steamer  was 
sold,  and  1  only  received  about  a  fourth  part  of  my  original 
stock.  This,  as  may  be  supposed,  was  a  bitter  disappoint, 
ment  to  me ;  for  I  had  every  reason  to  think  that  I  had  not 
only  invested  my  money  well,  but  very  profitably,  judging 
from  the  profits  of  the  other  boats  on  the  lake.  Had  I  received 
the  proceeds  of  my  commission,  and  bought  bank  stock  in  the 
colony — which  then  and  still  yields  eight  per  cent. — my  £700 
sterling,  equal  to  £840  currency,  would  have  given  me  £60 
per  annum,  which,  with  my  own  labour,  would  have  kept  my 
family  tolerably  well,  have  helped  to  pay  servants,  and  have 
saved  us  all  much  privation  atid  harassing  anxiety. 

Having  thus  supplied  the  painf\il  details  of  a  transaction, 
a  knowledge  of  which  was  necessary  to  explain  many  circum. 
stances  in  our  situation,  otherwise  unintelligible,  I  shall  pro* 
ceed  with  my  narrative. 

The  government  did  not  carry  out  its  intention  with 
respect  to  half-pay  officers  in  the  colonies ;  but  many  officers, 
like  myself,  had  already  sold  their  commissions,  under  the 
apprehension  of  being  compelled  to  accept  this  hard  alter- 
native. I  was  suddenly  thrown  on  my  own  resources,  to 
support  a  helpless  and  increasing  family,  without  any  regular 
income.    J  had  this  consolation,  however,  under  my  misfor 


w 


's. 


li^ 


208  Kocamso  it  in  tiik  hush. 

tune,  that  I  luid  acted  from  the  best  motives,  and  wiihoat  the 
most  remote  idea  that  I  was  risking  the  c.n.fort  and  happinuii 
of  Uiosc  depending  upon  me.  1  found  very  soon,  that  f  '.JMi 
been  too  precipitate,  as  people  ..ften  are  in  extraordinary  ik> 
sitions;  though,  had  the  result  i.een  more  fortunate,  mo»J 
jH^ople  would  have  commended  my  prudence  and  foresighJ 
We  determined,  however,  to  bear  up  manfully  against  oui 
ill-fortune,  and  trust  to  that  Providence  which  never  desorU 
those  who  do  not  foi^et  their  own  duUes  in  trying  circum 

stances. 

It  is  curious  how,  on  such  occasions,  some  stray  stanzas, 
which  hang  about  the  outskirts  of  the  memory,  will  suddenly 
come  to  your  aid.  Thus,  1  often  caught  myself  humming 
over  some  of  the  verses  of  that  excellent  moral  song,  "  The 
Pilot."  and  repeating,  with  a  peculiar  emphasis,  the  oonclu- 
ding  lines  of  each  stanza, 

"  Fear  not  1  but  trust  in  Providenos, 
Wherovcr  thon  muy'st  be." 

Suck  songs  do  good ;  and  a  peculiar  blessing  seems  to  attend 
^very  composition,  m  prose  or  verse,  which  inculcates  good 
moral  sentiments,  or  tends  to  strengthen  our  virtuous  resolu. 
tions.    This  fine  song,  1  feel  assured,  will  live  embalmed  in 
the  memory  of  mankind  long  after  the  sickly,  affected,  and 
unnatural  ditties  of  its  author  have  gone  to  their  merited  ob. 
livion.    Sometimes,  however,  in  spite  of  my  good  resolutions, 
when  left  alone,  the  dark  clouds  of  despondency  would  close 
around  me,  and  I  could  not  help  contrasting  the  happy  pat* 
in  our  life  with  my  gloomy  anticipations  of  the  ftiture.    Sleep, 
which  should  bring  comfort  and  refreshment,  often  only  aggra- 
vated  my  painfhl  regrets,  by  recaUing  scenes  which  had  nearly 
escaH  my  waking  memory.    lu  such  a  mood  the  foUowing 
vorHCS  were  wi'tten : — 


OF,  LET  ME  SLEEP  I 


ImD 


id  wiihoai  the 
,  And  happineni 
Bon,  that  I  '.jwi 
raordinnry  \m 
jrtunatc,  nvj«! 
and  forcttighl 
lly  agauist  out 
never  descrU 
trying  circun* 

)  stray  stanzan, 
',  will  suddenly 
yself  humming 
)ral  song,  "The 
tsis,  the  oonclu- 


seems  to  attend 
inculcates  good 
virtuous  resolu- 
ve  embalmed  in 
:Iy,  affected,  and 
heir  merited  ob- 
jood  resolutions, 
inoy  would  close 
;  the  happy  past 
s  fhture.    Sleep, 
often  only  aggra> 
vbich  had  nearly 
}d  the  following 


OH,  LET  ME  BLEEP  I 

Oh,  IH  OM  aiMp  I  nor  wake  to  m<1ii«m 
n*  hewt  th»t,  Bloepinif,  dreMM  ofi^kdiMSs; 
For  ilMp  l»  denth,  wlthont  the  pdn— 
Then  wnke  me  not  to  life  again. 
Oh,  let  me  tleep  I  nor  break  the  spell 
Tliat  aoothce  the  captive  in  hh  oell ; 
That  bnnti  bis  chains,  and  aeU  him  free, 
To  tvnA  in  hie  liberty. 

LoTod  scenes,  arrsy'd  in  tenderest  hve. 
Now  rise  in  bcanty  to  my  view ; 
And  loni^lost  friendn  around  me  stand. 
Or,  smiting,  grasp  my  willing  hand. 
AgiUu  I  seek  my  Island  homo; 
Along  the  silent  bays  T  room. 
Or,  seated  on  the  rooky  shore, 
I  hear  the  augry  surges  roar. 

And  oh,  how  sweet  the  mnsle  Siems 
Fve  heard  amid  my  bllMfbl  dreams  I 
Bat  of  the  aadly  pleaaing  strabw, 
Naaght  save  the  thrilling  sense  remalmt. 
Those  sounds  so  loved  In  soenes  so  dear, 
8tilt— still  they  mormnr  in  my  ear : 
Bat  sleep  alone  con  bless  the  sight 
With  forms  that  Aide  with  morning's  Hgtit. 


t,  w. ». 


Many  versions  have  been  pven  of  the  following  song,  and 
ll  has  been  set  to  music  in  the  States.  I  here  pve  the 
origu-.al  copy,  written  whilst  leaning  on  the  open  door  of 
my  shanty,  and  watching  for  the  return  of  my  husband. 


\mm 


910 


BOUOmNO  IT  IN  THE  BUaB. 


THK  8L1IGH-BXLIA 


*1h  many  to  hear,  *t  evening  Ume, 
Itl  the  biMng  hearth  the  eleich-beUi  eUavi 
1o  know  the  bounding  8te«la  bring  near 
The  loved  one  to  oar  boeome  deer. 
Ah,  lightly  we  epring  the  Are  to  raiae, 
Till  the  raftera  glow  with  the  ruddy  blaw; 
Thoae  merry  aleigh-bella,  our  hearta  keep 
Keaponaive  to  their  fidry  ohiine. 
Ding^ong,  ding-dong,  o'er  vaUey  and  hill, 
Their  waleonM  notaa  are  trembUng  atUL 

•Da  be,  and  Uithely  the  gay  bells  sound, 
As  ^dae  his  sleigh  o'er  the  ftoien  ground ; 
llark  I  he  haa  paas'd  the  dark  pine  wood. 
He  croases  now  the  ioe-bound  flood. 
And  hails  the  light  at  the  open  door 
That  tella  1^  toilsooMJoaniav  'a  o'er. 
The  meny  a*a«n-Deda .    My  lond  heart  aw« 
And  throba  to  hear  tha  waloome  bella ; 
Ding-dong,  ding-dong,  o'er  ioe  and  anow, 
A  voice  of  giodneaa,  on  they  go. 


^ 


Ow  hot  is  small,  and  rude  ow  dieer, 
jUct  love  has  spread  the  banquet  here  ; 
And  childhood  springs  to  ha  oareas'd 
9f  our  beloved  and  weloome  gueat. 
With  a  amiUng  brow,  hia  tale  he  talla, 
The  nrchina  ring  the  many  aleigh-bella; 
The  merry  aUgh-bella,  with  about  and  aoaf 
Thay  drag  tha  noiay  atring  along; 
jMngwdong,  ding-dong,  the  flrthar  'a  oome» 
The  gqr  bdia  ring  hia  weloome  home. 

From  the  oadar  swamp  the  gaunt  wolvea  ho«l, 
From  the  oak  loud  wh»>pa  the  Ailon  owl ; 


WSKF"' 


MP 

hill, 


,d, 

lund; 

od, 


irtti 
I 

lOV, 


THB  SLKlon-BELLS. 

Th«  snow-storm  sweeps  In  thnnder  pMt, 
The  forost  creaks  beneath  the  blast ; 
The  more  I  list,  with  boding  Ibar, 
The  sleigh-bellit'  distant  oliiine  to  hear. 
The  merry  sleigh-bells,  with  soothing  power 
Shed  gladness  on  the  evening  hoar. 
Dinf-dong,  ding^ong,  what  raptnra  mnttk 
Xh*  mulo  of  thoea  Joyon*  < 


911 


V 


NOTR.-Tho  Sonnnl  to  thin  vohiniP  will  Us  found  nnrtor  the  titlo  of  "life 
in  the  Backwoods,"  Mo.  107U  Lovell's  Libsabt.    Price,  20  cuuts. 


idM 


TMlMMrti 

Bwl; 


D 


J:  ': 


Burkt  tho  women  of  onr  honioholcU  when  thoy  tmdcrtkko  to  make  theif 
hoiDM  bright  and  oUecry.  Nothing  dotera  them.  Their  weary  work  may 
bo  aa  \ontf  an  Iho  word  which  lio)(ini  thi»  paragraph,  hut  they  prove  tlwi> 
regard  for  deociit  liumua  liy  their  iH<lef.itit[iil)ility.  What  a  pity  that  mi y 
of  them  Hlioulil  adcj  to  thoir  toi>  by  ncaltotiiig  to  use  Hapolio.  It  rodiicea 
the  labor  ut  oluauiug  and  Bouunng  ut  loiut  ouu-hulf.  lUu.  a  cako.  Hold  by 
•11  grooera. 


S3 


f        GLUTEN  n 

(!F'r[;3iTnaii:3  u 


CUN^TifATIUNl 
*AND     PIIES. 


Dn.  A.  W.  TnoMPSOH,  Northampton,  Uam,  uya:  V ^•"T"T****Si^ 
OluUn  Snppoaitorica.  and  oonalder  Ihom  valuable.  ••  indeed,  I  expected 
from  the  ezoellenco  of  their  theory." 

Dn.  Wm.  Tod  HEi.snmi  declares  the  Gluten  Snppositorica  to  be  "  tha 
boat  remedy  for  conatipation  which  I  havo  ever  proscribed." 

"As Banoho  Paaca  Mud  of  aleep,  ao  say  I  of  your  Glntcn  RnppoBitoriejil 
God  bleaa  the  man  who  invented  them  I  "—U  L.  Uiplky,  Burlington,  Vt 

"  1  prewsribo  the  Glnton  Supponitorica  almost  daily  in  niy  practice  and 
am  often  aatoniBhed  at  the  permanent  rosr.lu  obtiiincd. '-J.  MoNTFonf 
Bciil.BT,  M.D.,  Profcsaor  Physical  Diaguoaia  V/oman  a  Medical  CoUege, 
Ucw  York  City. 

HEALTH  POOD   CO.,  75  4th  Avenue,  N.  T. 

JAlvl|J^  Lt  0  W'^SHII'^  COMPOUND 


,m;K^ 


PearliME 


KVER  INVENTBD. 

IVo  Eifttly,  Married  or 
Slayle,  Itich  or  Poor, 
■lovaekeeptiiK  or 
Boarding,  wUl  1>e 
■wiUioiit  it  after  test* 
lag  it*  ntlUty. 

Sold  by  all  first-claas 
Orocers,1>at  l»e-wareo/ 
wortUew  Imltatioaa. 


'i 


SOCIALISM  IN  ACTION 


It  In  thn  dlrtlnpiiRliinf?  foatnro  of  thu  Labor  Movptnrnt  thnt  It 
iitrivt'H  altor  thu  nttainincnt  of  a  Mwiinl  Htiito  for  evory  hiininn 
being,  such  oa  dhiill  Iw  the  healthy  Hliniulaiion  of  ull  hJH  ^;o(MI 
qnalitioB,  while  hiH  1)U(1  teiidenciuM  shall  wither  auil  drop  uway 
from  him  by  the  impoMibility  of  their  aiiHtonauco. 

To  get  at  this  conception  ot  the  iKuwiblu  life  of  man,  hna  ro- 
qiil.-ed  the  experien(!0  of  every  day  and  every  year,  since  the  race 
arrived  at  the  obility  to  keep  a  record  of  its  progrcHB. 

The  proceiM  of  the  seasons,  the  growth  and  ripening  of  the  orops 
ha^  been  the  lesson  nature  has  afforded  for  the  study  of  her 
nioUiods,  ond  thin  ooasoIosH  repetition  has  finally  awakened  man  to 
tho  couceptiuu  that  kia  own  lifo  alliuti  him  to  thu  same  law  of 
development. 

ITiis  is  tho  mcosuro  of  tho  socialist  movement  of  the  present,  and 
for  those  who  desire  to  take  i)art  in  its  furtherance  we  would  com- 
mend the  study  of  80CIAL  SOLUTIONS. » 

Tho  main  purpose  of  this  publication  wos  to  issue  the  transla- 
tion by  Mario  Ilowland  of  tho  first  public  statement  by  M.  Go<lin, 
of  the  study  and  experience  ho  has  illustrated  in  tho  couatruction 
and  orcanization  of  tho  FAMILISTERB, 

Though  the  translation  of  this  most  important  demonstration  of 
tho  new  life  for  lobor  was  announced  when  it  was  prepared,  by  one 
of  the  chief  publishers  of  this  country,  yet  being  abandoned  on  the 
ground  "tho  labor  question  was  too  exciting,''  it  remained  in 
manuscript  until,  in  the  course  of  events,  a  more  progressive  pub- 
lisher was  found.  In  its  preparation  tho  plan  adopted  was  that 
of  twelve  parts,  each  of  which  should  contain  such  illustrative 
material  aa  the  editor  should  either  find  or  prepare.  The  twelve 
parts  are  now  publishotl  and  for  sale.  While  the  complete  trans- 
lation of  M.  Oodiu's  work  is  contained  in  eleven  of  the  parts,  the 
twelfth  part  is  an  atlmirable  and  complete  exposition  of  the  Beries 
of  social  solutions  proposed  by  tho  Credit  Foncier  of  Sinaloa.  for 
the  organization  of  tho  society  on  Topolobampo  Bay,  in  Sinaloa, 
Mexico,  which  haa  been  gathered  by  tho  Credit  Fancier  of  Hinaloa, 
a  iMkper  published  at  Uauunouton,  New  Jersey,  at  $1.00  a  year. 

•  Social  Solutions,  publUhwl  In  12  parts  In  Lovell's  Library,  prtoo  10  ccnta 
eacb,  or  tbe  11  parta  for  $1.00. 


JOHN   W.    LOVELL  CO., 

14  and  10  Veaey  St.,  New  Tork. 


CTION 


Movotnnnfc  thnt  it 

for  eviT.v  liiinmn 

ion  of  ull  hJH  ^'(hhI 

lur  ouil  (Imp  uway 

e. 

fo  of  man,  hnfl  ro- 
ear,  since  tho  race 

pening  of  tho  crops 

tho  Htmly  of   her 

)r  awakened  miin  to 

0  thu  name  law  of 

of  the  prenent,  aud 
lUce  we  would  com- 

» isflue  the  tranflia- 
ment  by  M.  Oodin, 
iu  thu  couatruction 

It  demoTMtration  of 
08  prepared,  by  one 
g  abandoned  on  the 
;,''  it  remained  in 
jre  progre8Hive  pub- 

1  adopted  was  that 
in  Hiich  illuHtrative 
repare.  The  twelve 
the  complete  trana- 
m  of  the  parts,  the 
Mition  of  the  Kerieit 
icier  of  Sinaloa,  for 
po  Bay,  in  Sinaloa, 
!  Fonder  of  iHuuioa, 
at  $1.00  a  year. 

library,  prloo  10  ccnta 


CO., 

St.,  yew  York, 


II.  RIDER  HAGGARD'S  NOVELS. 


SHE:  AHISTOUYOF  AI>VKNTrBE.    lamo.    r.iper, 
2o  cents. 

There  are  rolcir,  tplemlor,  anil  pmsion  everywhero !  action  in  abundance  ;  con- 
utaiit  viriety  ami  abtorliiiiR  inei.rc»t.  Mr.  Hauuanl  docs  not  err  on  tnc  side  of 
nii{i|ardlme»!i  ;  he  i-.oiily  looafllueiit  in  desrriplioiiand  ornanient.  .  .  .  'I  liere  i» 
n  UritenLss,  a  freshness,  ami  a  strenglh  alioiit  hini  whi<:h  arc  fiHI  of  firomisc  and 
cm:ourai;iMnent,  ihe  more  »im  c  he  h^s  placed  himicif  m  iinMiislal<al>Iy  on  the  roman- 
tic side  of  fiction  ;  that  is,  on  the  side  of  truth  and  ()crniancnt  v.-iluc.  ...  He  i> 
already  one  of  the  foremost  modern  romance  wnfrrs. — .V.  1 '.  /( 'or/i/. 

It  Jcems  to  me  that  Mr.  Ilagsard  has  supplied  to  us  in  this  look  the  complement 
of  "  Dr.  jeckyl."  He  hoi  shown  u>  what  woman's  love  for  man  really  means.— y/r* 
Journa/is/. 

On',  rannot  too  much  applaud  Mr.  HacKard  for  his  power  In  working  up  to  a 
weird  situation  and  holdin;;  the  reader  at  the  ghosl-itory  pitch  willicml  ever  abso- 
lutely entering  the  realm  of  the  supi-rnalural.  .  .  .  It  is  n  story  to  he  read  at 
one  sitliiiK,  not  m  weekly  parts.  Hut  its  sensationalism  is  frcsli  and  stirrins; ;  lis 
philosophy  isconvfved  in  p^\i;cs  that  glow  with  tine  unages  and  charm  the  reader 
hke  the  mclodiini*  verse  of  .Swinburne.  —  .\*.   I*.  '/»/«■*. 

One  of  the  most  peculiar,  vivid,  and  absorbing  stories  we  have  read  for  a  long 
time. — bustOH  Times. 

JESS.     A  Novel.      l2mo.      Paper,  20  cents. 

Mr.  Hasgaril  has  a  genius,  not  to  say  a  great  talent,  for  story-telling.  .  .  . 
That  he  should  have  a  lar^e  circie  of  readers  ni  Kngland  and  this  country,  where  so 
many  arc  trying  to  tell  stories  wilh  no  stories  to  tell,  is  a  healthy  si.nu.  in  that  it 
shows  that  the; love  of  fictiim,  pure  and  simple,  is  as  stronj  as  it  was  in  the  days  of 
Dickens  and  Thackeray  and  Scoll,  ihe  older  ilays  of  .Smollett  and  !•  lelduii;,  and  the 
old,  old  day»  of  Le  Sage  and  (.'crvanles.  -'.V.  1 '.  -lAi/V  and  K.tpress. 

This  bare  sketch  of  the  story  gi^es  no  conccpliim  of  lie  beauty  of  the  love- 
pass.ages  belw.  en  J.-.S  and  Niel,  or  of  the  many  fine  touches  interpolated  by  the 
author.— V/.  Louis  Kepublican. 

Another  feast  of  Houlh  African  life  and  marvel  for  those  who  revelled  in  "  She."— 
Itroi'Ulyn  Eagle. 

Th-  story  has  special  and  novel  interest  for  the  spiriteil  reproduction  of  life,  char- 
acter, scenes,  and  incidents  peculiar  to  the  'Iransvaal.— A'cj^oh  Advertiser. 

Mr.  Haggard  is  remarkable  for  his  fertility  of  invention.     .     .     .     Ihe  story,  like 
the  rest  o(  his  stories,  is  full  of  romance,  movement,  action,  color,  passion.    "  Jess 
is  to  be  commended  because  it  is  what  it  pretends  to  be— a  story.— 7V(/Aitf<v//i;rt 
Times, 

KING   SOIiOMON'S   MINES.     A  Novel.      l2mo.     Paper, 
20  cents. 

Few  stories  of  the  season  are  more  exciting  than  this,  for  it  contains  an  account 
of  the  discovery  of  thu  legendary  mines  of  King  Solomon  in  South  Africa.  The 
style  is  quaint  and  lealistic  throughout,  and  the  adventures  of  the  explorers  in  the 
land  of  the  Kuknaua  are  full  of  stirring  incidents.  The  characters,  too,  are  vigor- 
ously drawn. — .VViui  and  Courier,  Charleston. 

This  novel  has  achieved  a  wonderful  populirity.     It  is  one  o(  the  be»t  selling 
books  of  the  season,  and  it  deserves  its  great  success.— 7"r<y  Daily  Tress. 

THE  WITCH'S  HEAD.     A  Novel.     l2mo.     Paper,  20  cents. 

DAWN.     A  Novel.      l2nio.     Paper,  20  cents. 

rnbllshed  l»y  JOHN  W.  LOVELL  COMPANY,  New  York. 

l^B'Any  0/ the  above  ■maris  sent  by  mail,  {<ostage  frepaid,  to  any  fart  0/  the 
United  Stales  »r  Canada,  on  receipt  0/  the  price. 


EsxABUiswan  1836. 


ti* 


hi- 


I: 


LINDEHAN 


UnriYaled 

For  Tone, 
Durability, 

AKD 


PIAKO-FORTES 

WAREROOM8,    146  Fifth  Avenue,  New  York. 


FACTORY,  401-410  E.  Eighth  Street,  New  York. 


LINDEMAN  &  SONS,   Manufacturers. 


3. 


:an 


Unriyaled 

For  Tone, 
Durability, 


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Bt,  New  York. 


flanufacturers. 


.        -n^jaaanji 


THE  NEW  KOVKli 

»*THE  DUCHESS" 

By  THir  nVCBBBS, 

Anthor  of  "Holly  Bsvn."  "Fhyllto." 

otc.,  etc., 

it  the  beat  of  this  popniar  wrlter'a 

worka.  Mid  to  hartng  an  enormooa  aale. 

Ho.  1073  IiOT«U't  Ubnnr, 

PmcK.  ao  Omrs. 

TOEH  W.  lOVZLL  CO.,  PaUidien, 
14  A 16  Vbbbt  STMgr,  New  Yo»k. 

A  CLEAR  OOMPLEXION ! 

Weat  6Sd  St.,  N.  T.,  lady  writes  i 
"I  found  Db.  OAMPBaix's  Abskkio 
OoMPbExioM  Wafbbs  did  all  yon  Ruar- 
snteed  ther  would  do.  I  was  delioate 
from  the  elfeota  of  malaria,  uonld  not 
aleep  or  eat,  and  had  a  'WBETCHED 
OOMPLKXION;'  but  NOW  all  is 
chaufied.  I  not  only  sleep  and  eat 
welL  but  mv  comiilexion  is  the  envy 
and  talk  of  my  lady  friends.  You  issy 
refer  to  me."  (Name  and  address  fur- 
nished to  ladles.)  By  mail.  SOo.  and 
$1.U0;  samples,  36o.  Harmiless.  Fie- 
IiaiedONLYby 

„  .  l4f'West  letb  Hireet.  N.  V. 

Bold  Dy  DruKgists. 

FACE,  HANDS,  FEET, 

and  all  their  imperfec- 
tions, inolndiuR  Facial 
Development,  Hair  and 
So  alp,  Bnperfinons 
.Hair,  Bkth  Marks, 
'Holes,  Warts,  Moth, 
Freoklea,  Bed  Nose,  Acne,  Black 
Heads,  Scars,  Pitting,  and  their 
treatment.  Send  lOo.  foi.*  book  of 
60  pages,  4th  edition. 

Dr.  JOHN  H.  WOODBUBT, 

87  North  Pearl  St.,  Albany,  N.  T. 
«piurign-<forlaaie8.  Batabllaliedlsro. 


JTJiaEI- 


S!I  HiADACHE! 


BY  USING  THE  GENUINE 

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HOSTBTTER'8 

ITOMACH  BITTERS 

HAS  FOIt  30  TBABBBBKN 

Adtpttd  by  Pbytician  m  Itvailda, 

AS  A  BmSDT  FOB 

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t«v«r  and  Ague,  Malaria, 
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General  DeMUty, 

Ami  other  KINDRED  DISEASeS, 

AS  ooyPTTiinm  by 

THOUSAimS   UP   TKSTIMOiaALS  IM 

Oim  POSSESSION. 

AahyourDruggMforli,  and  take  none  but 

HOSTRTER'S  STOHACH  BlTTIItt. 


i  1 


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i*4 
11 


i 


|~         DR.    SCOTT'S 

ELECTRIC  Corsets  and  Belts. 

CorMti.  11.90.  $1.50.  $1.00,  $3.00.   Bdto. $300.   ll«ril«B Comt, 
PriM,  $1.5Cr  MdOMinal  Cowet,  Prha,  $3.00. 

a.«.m*ju>ii  ihoBund  rkmlllM  In  the  (^Itf  of  New  Tork  alone  nre  now  wenrlnf 
^l?.m  W.    E»"r"  inn  »d  Women,  well  or  lU,  .honld  dnlly 
'  '         wear  either  the  Corset  or  Belt. 

«n  ooiwiT.  AM  DoyM  "■"™.""-:!f'!tJKIu?K-, 


S^E^^B'SBsISg^SSrl^SB 


enasy  and  do  not  "feci  up  lo  tlie  niarn.    ii  you  '»■?" '™"' ""^"J?;;  "  "^^ 
titt  ikt  /oIloviiHg  : 

THE    CELEBRATED    DR.     W.    A. 

HAMMONn,   of  New    Vork,   formerly 

Surgeon-General  of  the  U.  S.  Anny, 

lately  lectured  upon  this  subject,  and 

advised   all   medical    men  to   niaks 

tliiil  of  these  agencies,  describrnir 

the  same  time  most  rcmnrkable 

cures  he  had  made,  even  in  r  «es     ^_ 

which  would  seem  hcijeless.  ^  vC 

The  Coreels  do  not  illffer     ^^^ 

in  .-ippearauce  from  th€>se       ^^ 

usually  worn.    They  are 

eleK'Uit  ill  shape  and 

finish,  made  after  the     ^^ 

best  French  pattern,     >J 

and  warranted  s,atisfac* 

to-y   in   every   resfiect. 

Our  Bells  for  iMith  gents 

and  ladies  are  the  ^n- 

uinc  Dr.  Scott's  and  are 
reliable. 

The  prices  arc  as 
follows:  «l.  «l.»>,  t> 
and  »:l  (or  the  Cor- 
sets, and  ti  each 
fortheBult-i.    The 
accompanying  cut 
represents  our  No. 
•I.  or  tl.iui  Corset. 
We   ti.ive    also   a 
beautiful  French  shap 
cd  Sateen  Corset  at  %\ 
alsoafine  Sateen  Abdom- 
inal Corset  ati|i:<,andashci. 
Sateen  Corset  at  %i.  The  »l 
and* I  SOKoodsaremadeof 
fine  Jean,  elegant  in  shape, 
stione  and  durable.    Nur- 
sing Corsets,  tl.Ml;  Miss- 
es, T&c.    All  are  double 
stitched.     Gents'   and 
I.a  lies'  Belts,  *3each ; 
Ijidies*    Abdominal 


Supporter,  an  Invalu- 
able article,  « It.  Thev 
are  sent  out  in  a  hand- 


1    III  •  u«ii«- 

tome  Iwx,  accompanied  by  a 
silver-plated compassby  which 
the  Electro-Magnetic  influence 
can  be  tested.  If  you  cannot 
find  them  in  your  dry  goods 
store,  remit  to  us  direct.  We 
will  send  either  kind  to  any 


We  guarantee  safe  deUwry  Into 
your  hands.      Remit  in    Fost-Offico 
Money-order,  Praft,  Check,  or  in  Cur- 
rency by  Re«istered   Letter  at  our 
risk.      In  ordering    kindly  mentfon 
Imitlts  LibTAiry,  and  state  exact 
size  of  corset  usually  worn.    Make 
^     all  remittances  payable  to  Oto. 
>ft        A.    SCOTT,  W  BROADWAY, 
^%         NEW  VORK.         ^       ^  ,      , 
Vft  N.    B.-Each    Biticle   Is 

0!k     stamped  with  the  English 
/J^      coat-of-arms,     and    the 
AB«      name  of  the  Proprie- 
4a^      tors,     THE     PALU 
Viv     MALL  ELECT- 
RO    RIC       ASSOCIA- 
^  TION. 

Hollis  Centre,  Me. 
I  aulTered  severely  from  back 
trouble  for  years  and  found  no 
relief  till  I  wore  Dr.  Scott  5  Elec- 
tric Corsets.  They  cured  me, 
and  I  would  not  be  without 
;ias  H.  D.  BENSON. 


■-'-'his,  Tennessee. 
i    Electric   Corsets 
;.'-  much  relief.    I 
ni   ,eurs  with  breast 
■  i..y.'       ;•.  >ut   finding  any 
'    k  ..III  other  remedies. 
They  are  Invaluable. 
MRS.  JAS.  CAMFBBU- 

DeWm,  N.  Y. 
I  have  an  invalid  sis- 
ter who  hud  nut  been 
dressed    fur  a   year. 
She    has    worn   Dr. 
Scott's     Electric 
Corsets  for    two* 
weeks  and  is  nowl 
able  to  be  dressed  | 
and  sit  up  most  ot  I 
the  time.      _  I 

MELVAJ.  DOB.     I 

Newark.  N.  Y. 
Dr.  Scotf  s  Electric  Comets 
have  enUrelycured  me  of  mus. 
cular  rheumatism,  and  also  ot 

severe  case  of  headache, 

MRS.  L.  C.  SPENCBR. 


% 


Chambersburg,  Pa. 
I  found  n»  Scott's  Electric  Cor- 
.'h;.  ...„^.    K"  possessed  miraculous  power 

,.;:,-      hSZ,*wJ    In  stimulating  and  invigorating  my 

Store,  remit  to  IB  direct.    We    e„fc,bled  libdy.   ancf  the   Hair 

wil    send  either  kind  to  any    ^    ^  ^^     ^^^  jfl-„,  „„  „,y 

address,  P<Mt-pald,  on  receirt  ,       „        .,.«{:   SNYnER, 

of  price,  with  Sti  cents  addod    ""'l*    ""  .,  ,;oods  Dealer. 

for  packing  and  postage.  '  .  .«    •«  /u»     •n.^h 

Dr.  Seotl'i.  Kleetric  Hair  Bm»he«.  t1.0«»  •V,?!If  •^.I*®' Jr3.f  I^leT 
Brnnhea,  »».00 ;  Or.  Sfotl'ii  KUetrlr  Tooth  Br""hw,  60  centa »  I"«««« 

A  mx\  SUCCESS  To.^"t',;^-Vl;r%S;j'&M^M 


J 


V- 


4D  Belts. 

DO.   Rwsiig  CoTMtr 
«,  13.00. 

k  kIobs  are  aow  wmMbk 

'  lU,  ihoald  AMj 

It. 

MD  WILL  MOT  RIP. 

,u  SMin  "pretty  well,"  yet  lack- 

ne.    Always  doln*  gopd.  ncvt.I 
y  mail  liritigs  ut  tttttmoHtahm 

Euanntm  iafe  deUTcnr  failo  j 

SndT    Remit  In    Pct-Omcc 
y-order,  Praft.  Check,  or  In  Cur- 
l,y  Rwlsteteil  Letter  at  our  I 
iy.  o"ering    kindly  mentton 
Its   Library,  and  state  »a«* 
c  of  corset  usually  worn-    Make 
.11  remittances  P^y*'"  "^^v" 
A.    SCOTT,   <M  BROADWAY, 
NEW  YORK._     ^      _„  ..   . 
k  N.   B.— Each    article  » 

V      stamped  with  the  English 
rV      coat-of-anns,    and    the 
M^     name  of  the  ProP'f 
«^.      tors,     THE     PALU 
TUik,     MALL  ELECT- 
RO    KIC       ASSOCIA- 
^^  TION. 


Mollis  Centre,  Me. 
I  auireied  severely  from  back 
trouble  for  years  and  found  no 
relief  till  I  wore  Dr.  Scott  s  Elec- 
tric Corsets.  They  cured  mc, 
and  I  would  not  be  without 
\w.        aas  H.D.  BENSON. 

—-his,  Tennessee. 

Electric   Corsets 

h,,,  much  relief.    I 

nr'  1.     eufs  with  breast 

.    ,  .  lut   Sliding  any 

'    1  ,iii  other  remedies 

They  are  Invaluable. 

MRS.  JAS.  CAMPBEU- 

t)eWltt,N.Y. 
I  have  an  invalid  sis- 
ter who  had  not  beea 
dressed    for  a   year. 
She    has    worn   nrj 
Scott's     Electnc* 
Corsets  for    two! 
weeks,  and  Is  nowl 
able  to  be  dressed  I 
and  sit  up  most  ol  I 
the  time. 
MELVA  J.  Don. 

Newark.  N.y.      , 

hy       Dr.  Scotf  s  Electric  ConeU 

i?    have  entirely  cured  "« <<[«•»• 

,y    c..laTrheuroattem.andal«ool 

"    severe  case  of  he^ache.  I 

MRS.  U  C.  SPENCB«. 


18.00,  »2.80,  $«.00ifl«Al 
HhM»60e«iit«t  i"«ol«» 


„„. .»»  IBHO" 

KLHCTRIV    HAIB 


VK  INVieOBA- 

fiuMlM  Ai»«t  WAIITED  ta  , 
Rplendldly  adTertlMd  Md  L 

•,  S4S  BrondwBlTi  "•  »• 


The  treotmeiit  of  many  thousands  of 
oaaeB  of  those  ohronio  weaknesses  and 
dlatreeslng  ailments  peculiar  to  Icmolca, 
at  the  Invalids*  Hotel  and  Survicnl  In- 
■Utute,  Buffalo,  N.  Y.,  boa  afforded  a 
Tast  expoiicnoe  In  niceljr  adapting:  and 
thorouKhly  testing  romedica  for  tho 
cure  of  woman's  peculiar  maladies. 

Dr.  Pierce's  FBTorlto  Proacrlp- 
tlon  is  the  outgrrowtb,  or  result,  of  this 
irreat  and  valuable  experience.  Thoii- 
■ands  of  testimooials  received  from  pa- 
tienta  and  from  physicians  who  htivo 
tested  it  in  tho  more  aRffravntcd  and 
obstinate  cases  which  hud  baffled  their 
■kiU,  prove  it  to  bo  tho  most  wonderful 
remedy  over  devised  for  tho  relief  and 
cure  of  suffcriniT  women.  Is  is  not  ro- 
oommendcd  as  a  *'oare«II,"  but  cs  a 
most  perfect  Spedflo  for  woman's 
peculiar  aliments. 

Jkm  a  povrertal,  InvlKomttna 
loikla  it  Imparts  strcnerth  to  the  whoCi 
■ntem,  and  to  tho  uterus,  or  womb  and 
ni  appendages,  in  particular.  For  over- 
worked, "worn-out,"  "run-down,"  de. 
blUtatea  teachers,  railllnera,  dreesmak- 
en,  seamstresses,  "shop-girls,"  house- 
keepers, nursingr  mothers,  and  feeble 
women  generally.  Dr.  Ftcroe's  Favorite 
ripition  Is  the  greatest  earthly  boon, 
^  unequalled  ea  on  appetizing  cor- 
I  and  restorative  tonic.  It  promotes 
..^  gstion  and  assimilation  of  food,  cures 
nausea  weakness  of  atomach,  indiges- 
tion, Hoatlnir  and  cmotatlons  of  gas. 

Aaaaooinlnir  moA  atrensihenw 
lav  nerrlnet "  Favorite  Prescription  " 
Is  unequalled  and  is  invaluable  in  allay- 
ing and  subduing  nervous  excitability, 
itrttabiUty,  exhaustion,  prostration,  hys- 
teria, spasms  and  other  distressing,  nerv- 
nusnrmptomscommonlyattendantupon 
f  unetional  and  organic  disease  of  the 
womb.  It  Induees  refreshing  sleep  and 
relievua  mental  aoxtetgr  ana  despond- 


parfMitly  harmless  in  its  effMts  in  aar 
condition  of  the  system. 

•'FaTortte  Pr«aertpCioii»  H  a 
poattlve  cure  for  the  most  compU- 
oated  and  obstinate  oases  of  leuoorrhea, 
or  "  whites,"  excessive  flowing  at  month- 
ly periods,  painful  menstruation,  unnat- 
ural suppressions,  prohtpsus  or  falling 
of  the  womb,  weak  Mick,  "female  weak- 
ness," antevcrsioniretroversion,  bearing- 
down  sensations,  chronic  r*ongertion,  in- 
flammation and  ulceration  of  the  womb, 
inflammation,  pain  and  tenderness  in 
ovaries,  actiompanied  with  intenial  heat. 

In  prcgiiaucy,  "Favorite  Prescrip- 
tion "  is  a  "  mother's  cordial,"  relieving 
nausea,  weakness  of  ntomaoh  and  other 
distressing  symptomj  common  to  that 
condition.  If  its  use  Is  kept  up  in  tho 
latter  months  of  gestation.  It  so  prepares 
the  system  for  deli/ery  as  to  graatl^ 
lessen,  and  many  times  almost  entirely 
do  away  with  the  sulerings  of  that  tty- 


<!•■  M  a  l0cltlaMtt0 

carefully  compounded  by  an  expnrteiHV 
M  and  aUUfui  physlclaa,  and  adapted 
to  wooMuil  delicate  wvaniaatloa.    It  i| 


inir  ordeal. 

(•C^vorite  Preacriptlon,^  whe\« 
taken  in  connection  with  the  use  of 
Dr.  Pierce's  Uolden  Medical  Disooyerr, 
and  small  laxative  doses  of  Dr.  Pieroe^a 
Purgrativo  Pellets  (Little  Liver  Pills). 
cures  Liver,  Kidney  and  Bladder  die 
eases.  Their  combined  use  also  removes 
blood  taints,  and  abolishes  canoeroua 
and  Ecrofuloue  humors  from  the  system.' 

Treating  tlte  nrrons  IMaeaap, 
Blany  times  women  call  on  their  family 
phyiiicians,  suffering,  as  they  Imaging- 
'one  from  dyspepsia,  another  from  nearc 
disease,  another  from  liver  or  kidney 
disease,  another  from  nervous  exhaus- 
tion or  prostration,  another  with  pain 
here  or  there,  and  in  this  way  th«r  all 
present  alike  to  themselves  and  their 
easy-going  and  indifferent,  or  oveM>uay 
doctor,  separate  and  distinct  diaeaaea 
for  which  he  prescribea  bia  ptUs  and 
potions,  p<«uming  them  to  be  auoh, 
when,ip  n-ality,  they  are  all  onhrsmp* 
trrnis  caused  by  some  womb  dumraer. 
The  pfayaiolan,  ignorant  of  the  cause  of 
suffralng,  encourages  liia  practice  until 
large  IciUs  are  made.  The  suitelng  pa- 
tient gets  no  better,  but  probably  wotm 
by  reason  of  the  delay,  wrong  tiMtment 
and  consequent  oompUcations.  AprqiK 
er  medicine,  like  Dr.  Pierce's  Favonio 
Prescription,  direeUd  to  (lie  cause  wouM 
have  entirely  removed  the  disease,  there- 
by dispelling  all  those  distressing  aymp- 
tome,  and  instituting  comfort  immad  of 
prolonged  misery. 

MSVBTOrite  PraMsriptton*>  Is  the 
only  medicine  for  women  sold,  by  drug- 
gists, nnder  a  poaltlve  aaaiaMoch 
nom  the  manufaoturcra,  that  it  will 
give  aatistaotion  in  every  CRie,  or  money 
will  be  lefunded.  This  guarantee  has 
been  printed  on  the  botUe-wiappar,  and 
faithfully  carried  out  for  many  reara 
LaneaotUes  (MO  doaeBTIuMS  «' 
sticaotUes  for  |5,00> 

BTBend  ten  cents  in  stamps  for  Dr. 
Pfirae'B  iKge,  iUustnted  Treatise  (MO 
pafca)  OB  Dueases  of  WoBsea.    AdtiraM^ 
World's  Sispsaauy  Ksdioal  Awwiatka. 


DECKER 

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Highest  grade  Instruments  manu-  | 
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33  UNION  SQUARE.NEW  YORK 

fall1dress"goods. 

JAMES  McCREERY  &  CO. 

offer,  aiiioiig  tliclr  lurfr*-  assortiiM-nf  of  Fall  r>rcs»  fimuU, 
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Two  lines  Stripe  and  Cheek  Clieviots.  44  inches  wlile, 

at  <M)  cents;  worth  $1. 

Also,  Three  Unes  Check  and  Stripe  Suitings.  54  inches 
>vide.  At  76  cents :  well  worth  $1.25. 

ORDERS  I  ft-«n»   a«y  P"'*   »*"   **»*"  country  will   receive 
BY    MAIL^  carefi»l  and  prompt  attention. 

James  McCreery  &  Co., Broadway  &  I  Ith  St.. 

NEW  YORK    CITY. 


HLESS 

struments  manu- 
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;ndorsed  and  pre- 
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EWYORK 


&  CO.  I 

Full  I>r«»s»  <io<Ml», 

i 
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lultings.  54  inolM'H 


iintry  will    rerrlve 
h  attention. 


ray  &  nth  St.. 


f 


